The Scattering
by Craig McFadden
Summary: An interesting merger (I hope) of everyone's favorite sci-fi universes, pulling from the narratives of Star Trek, Star Wars, Dune, BattleStar Galactica, and others. I hope you will enjoy my continuing chronicles of, "The Scattering."
1. Ep 1: Chapter 1

An interesting merger (I hope) of everyone's favorite sci-fi universes, pulling from the narratives of Star Trek, Star Wars, Dune, BattleStar Galactica, and others. I hope you will enjoy my continuing chronicles of, "The Scattering."

 _Paul Atreides_ , a young college student from 1980's Earth, stumbles upon a biological experiment run by his friend and mentor, Professor _Duncan Idaho_ , where he encounters an alien race of cybernetically enhanced invaders, _The BORG!_ Paul is hurled into a distant future, and an unrecognizable reality. He discovers a world where a wicked _Emperor_ , and his evil _Galactic Empire_ , threaten to engulf the peaceful space of the _Alpha Quadrant_ , the last bastion of freedom left unconquered in the Galaxy. The _Emperor_ , and his henchmen, lusts only to destroy the utopian and cooperative existence of the _Federation_ , and her allies.

In an uncertain world, Paul must choose to fight on the side of light, or follow the path that leads only to darkness.

The Scattering

Episode One:  
Sands of Time

1

The young Paul Atreides looked out of his dorm room window to the quad below. An impromptu game of football had been initiated by several of the larger and more athletic members of his all male dormitory. Paul barely registered the fact that he had not been invited to participate in the game, as he wouldn't have cared one way or the other. He had always preferred to watch such contests from the sidelines, rather than engaging in the brutality of the actual gameplay. Besides, it wasn't the sounds of the game that had drawn him to the window in the first place, but the bright orange glow of the sunset, bursting through his small window, and setting his room aflame, drenched in the sunburst. He'd always loved this time of day. The way everything seemed to drink up the light, becoming fat with the vibrant rays of the dying sun.

Paul gazed out at the quaint campus of his small private college, the normal sea of green bathed now in a tapestry of magnificent reds and oranges. But the awesome sight did little to brighten his mood, or change the reality of what was to come. Tonight, was his last night here as a student. He was dropping out, first thing in the morning.

It wasn't his grades that were the cause of his failure. Ever since he was a young boy, he had always excelled at learning. Always at the top of his class, always achieving high marks, often with minimal effort. And that was problem. Because even when his studies didn't interest him, he excelled. To everyone else, he was doing well, when in fact, he was stagnated.

With growing despaired, Paul watched as the sun disappeared behind the towering buildings of the city center in the distance, hiding itself from the world for the day. With the new darkness, and with no further thought, Paul turned away from the window, walked the span of his small ten-by-ten-foot room, and stopped at his desk. He glared down at the single piece of paper laying defiantly on the desktop, as though taunting him. Half in resignation, half in anger, he picked the overdue assignment, and focused on the last line near the bottom of the page, a date, May 8th, 1987, four days ago, a date he now knew signified the end of his time here at St. Gaius Helena's Seminary School for Young Boys. He no longer belonged here.

It was his third year at the school, and like any other subject, Paul had become an expert in Christianity and its many facets. He had assumed that, like any other assignment, the one he held in his hand, the one he'd not yet completed, would be a breeze. He hadn't even thought about the simple three-page analysis on the story of Lot and the Angels God had sent to the sinful city of Sodom. He'd put it off, purposely waiting until the last possible minute to re-read the text, and throw down a few hundred words to paper. He thought the assignment would take an hour, at most. That was five days ago.

To Paul's credit, he had tried. But he had become stuck when he came to the part where Lot had welcomed God's agents into his home. With God's agents inside, the house was suddenly surrounded by hordes of angry, and apparently horny, townsfolk. The throng demanded that Lot send out the strangers, so that they might "know" them. Biblical talk for _doing the nasty_. What came next, gave Paul no less than a full-blown infection of mental paralysis.

Paul, who had apparently forgotten the story from his studious as a youth, read in disgust as Lot offered his two virgin daughters to the horny mob. An attempt to dissuade them from wanting "relations" with his guests. The passage sparked an undeniable moral dilemma within Paul. Try as he might, he couldn't shake it off. The story seemed to be saying that it was perfectly acceptable to sacrifice one's own family, for perfect strangers, and that didn't sit well with him. For Paul, the story called into question, all his beliefs.

Paul's life up until this point, had been defined by hardship and tragedy. His parents had died in a car crash when he was only a boy. Both he and his sister, Alia, who was only an infant at the time, went to live with their grandfather. He was a bulbous crusty old man that smelled of cheese and rot, but he was his mother's father, and family. And they had little choice. Paul remembered his grandfather, rolling around the house on his wheelchair, spewing out long rants of how the world had forgotten the word of the lord, and how it was his duty to bring truth back to the masses. His grandfather was a truly pious man, and Paul knew that in his own way, he loved his grandchildren very much. And for a while, all was well. It fairytale didn't' last.

When Alia turned ten, she was struck down with an unusually invasive form of leukemia. Paul's grandfather, who was too poor to afford proper healthcare for his grandchildren, turned to prayer to cast out the _abomination_ within her, which his grandfather had come to call the cancer that was eating away at his granddaughter. But prayer proved not enough, and Alia died before she reached her eleventh birthday. Paul was 16. He thought of her often. He thought of her that night when he read the story of, Lot.

He wondered if His grandfather, a truly devote man, would be able to sacrifice Alia in that same way Lot had. He wondered if he could, if he was called upon to. And over the last five days, the questions of the story of Lot, and what he had done ate away at Paul, at his faith.

Paul, more than anything else, was an extremely logical man. If one piece of the puzzle was wrong, then the whole idea had to be abandoned. There were no freebies in life. Things were either real, or not. Things worked, or they did not. Once doubt entered the equation, he had no choice but to wonder if any of it had ever happened at all. Before morning had arrived on that fateful night, Paul knew…He didn't believe. Perhaps, he never had.

Abandoning the desk, and the assignment, Paul went to look at himself in the mirror. He poised with his chest puffed out, trying to fill out the bagginess of his security guard uniform more than his naturally scrawny physic could do on its own. He let out the air in his lungs, returning his diminutive stature back to its normal, slumped state. He frowned, and ran his fingers through his thick sandy-blonde hair, admiring its length in the back. Paul had been trying for the past several months to replicate the hairstyle of his TV hero, _MacGyve_ r. Looking in the mirror, Paul smiled at his developing, _Richard Dean Anderson-esk_ appearance. Paul leaned into the mirror, fastened his black clip on tie, which matched the color of the rest of his uniform, and adjusted his nametag displaying his name in bold black lettering.

PAUL A.  
Security Guard.  
Villains beware!

The last, he'd written in pen below his name. No one had ever noticed.

His smile vanished as he left the mirror, the worries of how he was going to tell his grandfather the truth, draining all the happiness from him. He flung himself onto his small twin size mattress with no head or footboards, and switched on the television, hoping that mindless channel surfing would be just the thing to take his mind off the heavy subject.

He turned the channel to his favorite station, _MTV_ , happy that he had taken the time to steal the cable from his RA's room the month before. _Nineteen channels,_ he mused at himself and at the wonder of _cable TV_. How would anyone be bored again! He grinned widely at the small grainy picture of _Chevy Chase_ appear on the set, and laughed as _Chevy_ stole the words, and the show, from _Paul Simon_ in the video for _Call Me All._ Paul grimaced in agony when the next video came on, _Time of Your Life_ , from the _Dirty Dancing_ soundtrack.

"Enough of that!" He muttered to himself before smashing the channel up button of his remote.

He landed on CNN, in the middle of a heated political debate between the two remaining candidates for The President of the United States, Democratic nominee, _Michael Dukakis_ , and his Republican opponent, and current Vice President, _George Bush_. Paul had never considered himself to be particularly political. Nor was he ever overly persuaded by either party's rhetoric. But he fully understood the main arguments of the day. He wondered if these two did. Not that it would matter much. Bush was leading in nearly all the polls against _Dukakis_. _Besides_ , Paul thought to himself, _what harm could a Bush Presidency do?_

Forgoing the political discussion, Paul quickly switched the channel again, turning past the local news, a Calgon commercial, and a PDA from _Mr. T,_ no doubt warning the children of the country to stay in school. Paul rolled his eyes before stopping dead on one of his new favorite shows, _Unsolved Mysteries_. He prepared himself for yet another unsolved case of murder, betrayal, and abduction. Each story eerily narrated by the somber voice of the unshakable _Robert Stack._

Paul settled in for what looked to be an unusually creepy episode. He'd missed the opening title scene, tuning in just in time for _Stack_ , using his signature melodramatic voice to set the scene for tonight's mystery.

 _It was a dark night, in the outlying suburbs around the city of Phoenix. Alexander Proust, a world renowned micro-biologist and father of two beautiful daughters, husband to Noreen, was walking to his car after an unusually long night in his lab at the University of Nevada, when he was approached by a group of individuals described by eyewitnesses as, menacing._

Goosebumps covered every inch of Paul's exposed flesh at the somber sound of _Stack's_ narration. _Unsolved Mysteries_ never failed to get Paul's blood pumping, despite the show's poor production quality, and famously bad acting. Stack went on to describe the abduction of the Professor at the hands of this now famous gang of hooligans.

Paul had heard the story enough times now. A famous scientist, leading expert in his or her field, shepherded off into the shadows by what was normally described as a leather clad, zombie like, biker gang. The extremely odd story was quickly developing into a full-fledged urban myth. Paul's enthusiasm for the show and the story began to fade. That was until the camera turned to one of the attackers.

The actor had been dressed in an ill-fitting, full-body, black-leotard, with chest armor and shoulder protectors, from a bad BMX movie, also black, with blinking lights crudely glued all over it. He was also pasted with white makeup, making his skin pale. Dark circles had been painted around his eyes, giving the man the look of a raccoon, and he was wearing one of those biker helmets that protected only the skull. Paul figured that the producers of the show were trying to go for a _Road Warrior_ look, but had apparently never seen a _Mad Max_ movie before. They guy looked ridiculous.

According to _Mr. Stack_ , the design of the costume was based on an eyewitness of the abduction. The program hinted that the odd clothing of the group may be a diversionary tactic used by Soviet spies, a ruse to get the scent of espionage off their tracks. They even had a name for this now infamous group on the show…The BORG!

Paul thought sounded more Swedish, than Soviet!

Paul erupted into a bout of laughter that lasted a full minute. he instantly switched the channel to 4, got off his bed, and placed a recorded episode of _The Fall guy_ , into his now ancient _Betamax_ player. He threw himself back on his bed, pressed play. He began drifting to sleep even before the episodes first, over the top punch, was thrown by the shows frontrunner, one of his favorite actors, _Lee Majors_.

As his mind fell from the waking world, Paul could not help but to think of the absurd _Unsolved Mysteries_ episode.

"Cybernetic invaders from space! What the hell!" He forced a laugh.

Somehow, the uneasy feeling the show left in him, would not go away. He closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.


	2. Ep 1: Chapter 2

2

Paul leaned back in his ancient office chair and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at his Casio wristwatch, complete with mini-calculator, for the time. 4AM. Paul groaned sorrowful, at both the time, and the realization that he was only half-way through his shift. He slapped himself gently, trying to revive some of his drowsy senses, then reached for his coffee to force down more of the rancid drink. He twirled around in his chair a few times, before standing to stretch his legs, hoping the movement would help to keep him awake. He looked about the tiny guard-shack, making sure everything was still in its place.

The small Guard shake, Paul supposed, was like any other. A tiny five-by-ten foot, cheaply constructed building, with a door on one wall, and large plexiglass windows on the other three. There was his office chair, a counter at the opposite end from the door, and a small mini-fridge that hadn't worked a day in the six months Paul had worked here. It's only function now was apparently to act as a stand for the coffee pot that constantly pumped out the black tar that was supposed to pass for a drinkable beverage. Paul paced back and forth along the short length of the guard-shack several times, purposely avoiding having to do his rounds in the lab before the morning.

The lab that Paul was apparently supposed to be protecting was constructed deep within the bowels of an old abandoned steel factory. Making his rounds through the ghostly shell of a building creeped Paul out more than anything else. Even more than standing alone in the guard-shack. Paul was the only living thing for miles, as the factory was located smack in the middle of the city's once thriving industrial sector, which was now home only to the lab, and Paul's lonely guard-shack.

Paul's only wish, now that his midnight rounds were inevitable, was that the lab had been housed in some shiny office building, or university complex. The Professor's tiny budget, and the university's apparent lack of faith in his research project, which if you asked the Professor, was going to change the world, had forced the young faculty member to find the cheapest housing possible for his experiments. Paul nervously eyed the darkness of the industrial park, distressed by the absolute deathly silence. His body tensed, feeling as though he might jump right out of his skin, should the quiet of the night generate even the faintest of noises. Perhaps the _Unsolved Mysteries_ episode, had bothered him more than he'd thought. Suddenly, a loud crash rang out in the distance. Paul cried out a scream that would make any ten-year-old girl jealous. His eyes darted to blanket of darkness that surrounded the guard-shack, trying to discover the source of the calamity. It was only after, when Paul could see nothing in the night, when the lingering echo of the noise dissipated, and the level of danger descended, did he recognize his own absurd overreaction. Paul's face flushed red with embarrassment, and he was suddenly grateful for his solitude, as there was no one around to witness his humiliatingly childish response. Especially Duncan.

Duncan Idaho was the professor that ran the lab. In their many talks, the Professor always shrugged off the posterity of his title, and insisted that Paul called him only Duncan, at least until he had convinced Paul to join the university. Younger than most of his colleagues by far, Paul understood the professor to be a truly brilliant man, and though he had no idea just what he was researching, Paul had no difficulty believing Duncan's words that what was happening inside the depths of this old worn out factory, would indeed, change the world.

Duncan had become a bit of a personal hero for Paul. He too had had a difficult childhood, his parents dying when he was quite young. Raised in foster homes, the professor had come up from nothing. Paul admired him more than just about anyone. He considered Duncan a true friend, and committed himself to one day, calling his friend, Professor.

Perhaps that day would come sooner than he thought. Paul was dropping out of seminary tomorrow, and he had already decided that the first person he would tell would be Duncan. He would put his application into the university in the fall, and with any luck, and the personal recommendation of a faculty member, he would be a university student soon after. This more than anything, more than the coffee, more than the slap, more even than the fright from the still unknown noise, kept him awake. Paul knew that the professor always came to the research lab early, and in a few hours, he could break the news to him. He only hoped that the professor would be as excited as he was.

That was that. He'd come to a decision. He had no idea just how he was going to break the news to his grandfather, and just then, he didn't care. With a wide grin, Paul snapped on his headphones, picked up the latest _Weird Al_ cassette from the counter, Dare to Be Stupid, and stared out song titles printed on the side of the tape. Deciding that he wasn't really in a parody-type mood tonight, he abandoned _Al_ , for his other recent purchase, _Beastie Boys_ , _License to Ill_ , and slide it into his _Sony Walkman._ As his newly discovered favorite, _No Sleep till Brooklyn_ , blared in his ears, he rushed out of the door to the guard shake, and bolted towards the entrance of the abandoned factory, still a little weirded out by the _Unsolved Mysteries_ episode.

That damned _Robert Stack_ , Paul thought to himself as he reached the rusted out main doors of the factory.

He hated the midnight rounds!


	3. Ep 1: Chapter 3

3

Timidly, Paul inched his way down the long dark hallway that led to the lab. There were no lights of course, as the university hadn't given the Professor enough money to light the entire factory, only the lab itself, which was a good distance inside the bowels of the old steel factory. Paul had never been in the lab, which was strictly off limits to all but the Professor's research team, but he assumed that if there was a place in the factory with power, that would be it. Paul's job during his rounds was to inspect the four hallways that skirted the perimeter of the lab, checking for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary, which there never was. Paul doubted that anyone even knew this place existed, maybe even the faculty heads at the University itself. He shook off a sense of foreboding left over from the _Unsolved Mysteries_ episode, and pushed his way through the darkness of the hallway.

Paul strained his eyes to see as he made his way to the lab, watchfully aiming his flashlight at anything he felt warranted it. Like the rest of the abandoned factory, the hallway was a mess, as there was no one left to clean, or perform regular maintenance. Plastic sheeting strewn about the floor, exposed piping and electrical conduit ran across the walls. Insulation, along with random sections of wire, hung from the ceiling, casting ominous shadows from Paul's flashlight. Each time he walked this hall, he thought the scene to be straight off the set of the movie _Aliens_.

"Guess that makes me Ripley." Paul whispered to himself, trying to lighten the mood.

He tried moving his legs faster, but found them to be stiff and refusing command. He wanted to be out of this place as soon as possible, but knew that he had to finish his rounds before he could. His legs didn't seem to mind, and only mildly obeyed his brain's commands.

Eventually, Paul reached the door that led to the lab. It was a large stainless-steel monstrosity, put here by the professor, and looked to be only one step shy of a bank vault's door. Paul's belly turned with nervous excitement. To him, the mass of metal signified the end to his rounds. All he needed was to quickly scan the thick door for any tampering, a task made easier by the fact that this small section of hallway was the only part of his rounds that had electrical lighting, and make his way back to the guard shack where he would wait for the Professor, and tell him the good news about his imminent application to the University. Perhaps soon, he would truly get to call Duncan, Professor. His heart froze in fear when he looked down at the locking bolt.

Instead of seeing the familiar large metal handle, and locking keypad, Paul found only a fist size hole, completely burnt out from the thick steel. The alloy appeared to have been melted away, as though it was little more than warm butter. Paul backed up, and twisted his head up to the security camera, which had been bolted to the wall and directed down at the door. It's power cord had been torn away.

He stood dumbfounded for what felt like an eternity, though he knew that in reality, only a few seconds had passed. He knew what he was supposed to do. What he should do. He should turn around, get back to the phone in the guard shack as quickly as possible, and call the police. He needed to move, he needed to run! Any reasonable person would. Which was why he so shocked to find himself reaching for the hole in the door, and gently tugging on the door, opening it as quietly as he possibly could. He supposed that he was wrong. He wasn't a reasonable person.

Before he knew it, he was sliding through the doorway, against all apparent sense.

 _Ripley wouldn't be this stupid_. He thought to himself as he pierced the darkness.


	4. Ep 1: Chapter 4

4

As soon as he was through the door, Paul instantly regretted his choice to come inside. The large steel door gently glided to a close, hardly making a whisper of a sound as it fit itself securely within its metal frame. Paul looked back at the door. It's imposing girth and height making him feel totally cut off from the world outside the lab. An uneasy feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach. He wished he had never come here, but he somehow found himself incapable of leaving. He clinched his jaw, and faced the room.

Paul was surprised to find himself in a rather standard looking examination room, he guessed to be about twenty feet long, by ten wide. Paul found it rather underwhelming, as he had allowed his imagination to run a bit wild as to what the Professor's lab might hold. He pictured banks of computers, workstation terminals scattered about, large clunky boxes complete with arrays of randomly blinking lights that served no purpose other than looking cool. The ideal setting of a super-nerd's science-fiction fantasy. He was, disappointed.

The room was dark, and was beginning to feel a bit too much like a morgue. All four walls had been painted in a uniform, hospital light-blue. At the head of the room was a large window with a set of beige mini-blinds closed shut. An office door stood beside the larger window, with its own small fogged glass window set inside. On the wall to his right, there was a large industrial double-swing door. He wondered where it could lead.

The floors consisted of small stick-on black and ivory squares, waxed and buffed to a blazing shine. A drop ceiling, with the usual grid pattern of white ceiling tiles, textured with small black dots, completed the stereotypical room. In fact, the only thing that stood out as unusual in the room, where a series of stainless-steel cart racks on four wheels. Atop the carts sat metal trays with various medical tools laid neatly in a row on them. The shiny metal devices were almost, dental in appearance. Next to the metal carts, and in no apparent layout, were large steel tubs, their purpose a complete mystery. Paul could see, however, that each tub was just about big enough for a full-sized adult to fit inside, like freestanding stainless steel bathtubs.

Slowly, he tip-toed into the room. Paul stopped dead when he heard a scuffle coming from the room with the window ahead. Through the large glass window, even with the blinds fully shut, Paul saw what looked like the beam of a flashlight. But it wasn't a normal flashlight, which seemed to fill the room in an eerie green hue. But despite the oddity of the intruder's choice of flashlight color, Paul knew, someone was in the lab!

Instinctively, he dropped to his knees, hiding, no doubt ineffectively, behind one of the large metal tubs. He looked back at the window. He could clearly make out two, maybe three, green flashlight beams. They looked to be searching for something. Chills ran up and down his spine as Paul remembered the _Unsolved Mysteries_ episode.

 _They were all scientists_. Paul thought about the story. All that had been abducted so far had been scientists. _Leaders in their field_. _Duncan was a leader in his field!_

Fear coursed through Paul. Duncan always came in early. Paul had waited too late to do his rounds. He'd put it off too long. The Professor would be here soon. Paul knew what he had to do. He had to warn him, had to save him. Without a further thought, Paul pushed himself to his feet, intent on making a break for the door.

 _So long as I'm quiet, I should be able to make it to a phone. I can warn the Professor_. _There's still time!_ Paul thought to himself, as he stood.

Paul was not quiet!

As he raised his body, Paul carelessly swept his hand across one of the metal trays, disturbing the carefully placed metal instruments. A small metallic clang rang out, and in the dead silence of the room, the barely audible noise sounded like a freight train. Paul's heart stopped completely.

Almost in unison, the faint green beams of light from the room beyond the window turned towards the window. Paul could see through the movement of the beams, that the three men had begun making their way to the side of the room, towards the door right next the window. Paul froze in fear.

Now, completely lacking in any grand plan of escape, Paul simply bolted towards the main door, grabbed the melted-out hole that was once it's handle, and pulled with all his might. The heavy door did not give way an inch. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. Paul couldn't understand it? The door had pulled so easily before, and closed so gently. How could it be jammed now? He began to lose his focus, his concentration. With a pitiful look Paul looked back to the door across the room, as though pleading with the intruders for one more moment before entering, so he might pry open the massive steel door and escape. But no matter how hard he pushed or pulled, the door would not budge.

To his surprise, the three intruders had yet to breach the room. They looked to be having difficulty opening their own door that separated him, from them. Through the fogged glass of the small window set inside the door, Paul could see the undefined forms of the men. Something about them felt wrong. From somewhere deep within Paul, roared a primordial scream of terror. These men where after more than just secrets, they were after, him! It was instinctual, animal. Utterly not human. Paul wanted to survive. He wanted to get out. Frantically, Paul pulled at the door with no success. It was hopelessly jammed. He was losing it, he knew that much. He was losing the ability to reason, to think clearly. He looked over the rest of the room, searching for another way out. He was forgetting something, something… _what am I forgetting_! His mind screamed. Paul's eyes went back to the intruders. He froze when he saw the handle of the door slowly turn. They were coming in!

Fear held his mind in a vice grip of panic. He could not think. He knew he had to move, but the fear held him firm. He had to fight the fear. The fear was his enemy.

It was only then that he remembered an old mantra that they taught at the seminary. The very school he'd hope to leave in the morning. He closed his eyes, and recanted the litany to himself.

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Almost on que, Paul's mind began to clear. The fog of confusion lifted as his fear evaporated. And not a moment too soon, as the intruders were coming in.

 _The door_! He thought to himself as he remembered the double-swing industrial doorway to his right.

In an impressive show of speed and skill, Paul lept towards the double door, clearing the distance across the room before the first intruder even made it fully inside. Paul pushed through the door, turned, and watched as it slowly swung closed behind him, skidding to a gentle stop. He backed away several paces, unsure if the intruders had heard or saw him. Without blinking, Paul stared through the small glass window set within the door. He couldn't see much, as a thick layer of condensation had built up on the glass. It was only then that he realized just how hot it was in the new room. Hot, and almost completely dry, causing moister to build up on the other side of the glass.

Paul ignored the heat as he continued to stare through the small window. He could tell the men had entered the room, as the film of water on the glass absorbed and refracted the ominous green light from the intruder's flashlights, setting the small window aflame in a glowing, soft neon light. Paul's heart pounded in his chest. Without thought, he backed away further.

He started when one of the beams of light shot straight through the small window set within the door. _This is it_ , Paul worried. He knew there was nothing to stop them. The door had no lock, and he couldn't hope to hold them off. He had no way of calling for help, nowhere to run, or even hide. He didn't know his way around the lab. He was caught. The most he could hope for at this point, was the off chance that these Soviet spies had the heart to offer him a quick, and painless death. Based on all the movies he'd seen about the USSR in his young life, Paul wasn't very confident.

Slowly, the wide beam of light passed from one side of the window to the other. Paul was shocked when the beam narrowed, becoming almost laser like in appearance. The small ray cut its way through, crisscrossing the tiny window in an almost chaotic fashion. Other lasers joined in, each more irregular in its transition across the window than the last. Several moments passed. Against all odds, and to Paul's great relief, the Russians did not push through the doors. After a time, which felt like an eternity to Paul, the lightshow ended, eventually fading away completely. Soon even the sounds of the men outside the door had dissipated. Paul let out a sigh of relief like he had never before, satisfied that, at least for the time being, the universe had granted him a temporary pardon. He had no intention of letting it go to waste.

With no further hesitation, he turned to face his new surroundings, determined to discover another way out of the factory. As he did, he was taken aback a bit to discover a thick curtain of plastic, cut into ribbons, and hanging a few feet away from him. With little choice Paul pushed his way through the plastic curtain.

He gasped in horror when he saw what was beyond.


	5. Ep 1: Chapter 5

5

Paul had entered a large room, dimly lit by an unknown source. He looked up, trying to estimate the room's height, but the ceiling disappeared some twenty feet up, cast by deep shadows. It was difficult to make anything else out through in the darkness. But it was hot, that much he knew for sure. Hot and hellishly dry. He trudged forward, the sweltering heat sucking even the faintest trace of moisture from his skin. The room felt like a kiln.

Advancing through the room, Paul struggled to make out more detail. He knew fumbling blindly through the dark wouldn't do him any good. So, risking discovery, Paul untucked his shirt tails, pulled free his flashlight and turned it on under his black shirt, hoping to dampen the intensity of the light. He instantly stopped, and gasped in horror when he saw what the new light revealed.

At the center of the large room, hanging in rows by chains and hooks from the ceiling, like cow cadavers in a meat locker, were long, reptilian creatures. Like snakes, but not quite. In the need to see more, Paul freed the flashlight from his shirt a bit. He slowly approached one of the creatures, hoping it was dead. Once Paul was as close as he dared, he squinted, taking in as much of the alien creature's anatomy as the faint light from his flashlight, and his senses, would allow him. He could see a series of well-defined ringed segments that traveled up and down the snake's body, making the creature reassemble more a gigantic earthworm, than an average sized anaconda. The animal was hanging from what Paul assumed to be its mouth. He looked up, finding the mouth to be divided into four parts and clamped fully around the hooks. Mesmerized by the creature, Paul leaned in closer. He found that he couldn't help himself. Against all reason, he reached out to touch it. Using only the tips of his fingers, Paul gently laid his hands on the creature. He was amazed at how dry, and leathery its skin felt. It had at once, the feel of sandpaper, and the strength of iron. He pulled his hand away. There was something else. Something unexpected. A smell. It was musty, earthy, but somehow familiar to him. He placed his nose closer to the creature, and inhaled deeply.

 _Cinnamon?_ He thought to himself.

Paul took in the aroma, not quite matching the familiar spice. He shook his head in confusion. He wanted to know more, but he had to get out of the lab. _I have to move!_ He thought to himself. _I don't have time for this_!

Only with great reluctance, Paul pulled himself away from the creature. He slid carefully into the rows of hanging wormlike cadavers, making his way around the bodies, to the other side of the room. The smell of cinnamon only increased as he did.

The worms did not move as he made his way through their hanging bodies, not even a hint of life. Soon, he found himself on the other side of the room, which for the most part, mirrored the first. Not far off, and expecting it to be there, he spotted a hanging plastic curtain he now knew led to another double swing door. He wasted little time making his way across the rest of the room, but before pushing himself through the plastic, Paul looked back to the mass of worms. He felt an odd connection to the creatures. He was surprised to find himself wanting to help them, to free them from their bondage, and loose them back into the world, whichever world they had come from. He felt an undeniable kinship to them, true sympathy, and anger to whomever it was that had captured them. In that moment, he knew what he was going to do. Even if it cost him his introduction to the university, and his friendship with the professor, his mind was decided. The next night, he would come back to this place, and find a way to free them. With a new sense of resolve, Paul pushed through the plastic curtain and out the double-swing door.

Upon exiting, Paul found himself in a dimly lit hallway running adjacent to the room he'd just left. At either end of the doorway, were heavy duty metal doors. Both had heavy chains wrapped around and in-between their handles. Clearly, he would not find his way out through one of those. Along the hallway, however, Paul saw three smaller, office doors. He tried each one in turn, discovering the first two to be locked. As he options began to fade, he wondered if he would indeed discover another way out. His worry increased.

As he approached the last door, now his only option left to him, Paul's thoughts lingered on the hanging worms. Try as he might, he couldn't shake them from his mind. It was as though once he had encountered them, he had found his reason for being. He had to force the thoughts from his head as he turned the last remaining handle. It opened! Quietly, cautiously, he pushed his way into the room, hoping to discover his way out. But the need to leave the lab seemed lesser now, his desire was only to return to the worms. Reason forced him forward.

Paul cracked the door open just enough to put his head through. The room looked like a small office, not much bigger than a large broom closet. At the head of the small room, sat an ancient wooden desk. Arranged on top of the desk, was a complicated array of glass tubes, jars, and beakers. It looked like a larger, more complicated version of the chemistry set he'd had as a child. Liquids of various colors filled the beakers, some running through the tubes. There was no exit, and he was about to abandon the room, before he looked closer at the chemistry set.

Held on stands, near the center of the desk, were two glass vials. Each was about the size of his smallest finger. Both vials appeared identical, each capped with a small black topper, and filled with a pale-blue, translucent liquid. Below one of the vials, Paul could see a small pool of the blue liquid that had obviously spilled when the vial was filled. Paul couldn't help himself, and came into the room, walking directly towards the vial. He bent over, putting his nose close to the pool. He wafted the scent of the blue liquid towards him, cautiously. It had the same cinnamon smell to it, only much more powerful. Against all better judgment, he reached out a single finger, and touched the liquid.

At the very moment of contact, Paul lurched his hand away from the table. He could feel the tiny fraction of the blue liquid seeping its way through his skin, down to the blood beneath. He clamped his hand around his wrist, forming a makeshift tourniquet, and held his hand up to his face. He wore an expression of pure terror. Paul's senses began to fade. His world was going dark. He lost his footing, and flopped to his back, still holding his hand firmly with the other, squeezing it with dear life.

But the agony had only just begun.

….

Paul's reality became pain. It was omnipresent. It was everywhere. His entire body throbbed and pounding in it. The pain soon became so overpowering, so familiar, that he had difficultly remembering a time when it wasn't with him. As though life before this moment, was only a dream.

Paul knew that time his time left in this world was short. The pain was too great, too intense. He had to find a way back from the agony that had encapsulated him. His physical body was immobile. He could not move. He would find no salvation there. With no other option left to him, he looked inward, past the pain, past his senses. He forced his mind to remember that all matter was also energy. With that fundamental principle at the forefront of his mind, he reached out, trying to utilize any remining energy his body contained in controlling the poison at a molecular level. Soon, he saw it. Not with his eyes, which he doubted functioned anyway, but with his mind. In a lifting fog of thought, he could see the poison at its most fundamental chemical base. He could see the molecules, the compounds, and the elements. He could see the bonds of invisible energies that connected them all together. Most important, he could see exactly how to rearrange the unfamiliar compound into something his body could handle. His set about the seeming daunting, and otherwise impossible, task of the transformation. When he finished, the pain began to subside. His body passed through the agony of the drug. But his mind remained in a trance. If the world before where truly a dream, he knew he must find a way to wake from it. This was his only chance.

 _The sleeper must awaken._

With that, Paul's mind elevated beyond the physical needs of his body, and his consciousness became uplifted with a new awareness of reality. A new understanding of life itself. Through his newfound prescient sight, Paul could see past the trap of the present that had forever imprisoned all sentient beings before him. He couldn't understand the how, but he could not deny the truth of what he now saw. Paths of probability lay before him, no different than that of a road leading to a single destination. With a pristine clarity, Paul saw…everything.

Paul saw the imminent destruction of his home world, of Earth, as the advancement of mankind's destructive capability pushed ever forward. He saw the many nation states erupt into a decades long conflagration of pointless brutality. He saw the lands engulfed in waves of heat and nuclear fire. He saw the seas boil with radiation. Through his new prescient abilities, he saw his planet burn. He saw countless die. Avoiding catastrophe, many fled. Armed with newly developed technologies, allowing humans to surpass the speed of light, Paul could see the scattering of mankind. Finally, humans would take their places among the stars, taking their strengths, their hopes, and dreams. And unavoidably, their weaknesses.

Paul saw a great republic rise from the seeds of the scattering, only to devolve into the normal revolution of human history. Wickedness, greed, and hate compounded onto one another, forming an indestructible empire of evil. Paul could see that humanity had yet to shed its infancy. He wept at the sadness of it all.

But hope remained those that stayed on Earth, for the survivors of the ultimate holocaust. Through the adversity, Paul could see the steadfast will of the human species to resist extinction, even against all odds. Paul's heart lifted. For within those that remained, Paul saw the capacity of cooperation grow and develop to new heights; an understating of companionship, of empathy and respect, of seeing the world from another's viewpoint, a respect for communal society, for compromise, and compact, all enhanced beyond anything that had come before. It was not a lesson these people learned, but a trait that developed through centuries of natural selection. It had evolved within them. Like any animal struggling to adjust to their environment, these new children of Earth surpassed their predecessors. They adapted to their new environment of death in order to survive. Those that did not, perished.

Paul saw within this new version of humanity great possibly. And like those that went before them, they too eventually spread themselves to the heavens, following the path laid out by those that left Earth generations before. They sought out their brethren, but also new life-forms, and new civilizations, bringing with them, their deeply refined sense of comprise. They brought peace were there once was war. Freedom, were once there was oppression. Federation, where once there was chaos. Paul saw within this new species, hope for the future. He saw within them the potential to propel, not only humanity, but all species, down a final, _Golden path_ of enlightenment.

He saw hope.

Then he passed out…


	6. Ep 1: Chapter 6

6

Paul opened his eyes, disoriented at first. He was lying face up on the tiled office floor, having no idea how long he'd been in the trance. He stood to his feet, wobbly at first, and brushed himself off. He thought of what he'd seen in that dreamlike state, and wondered if he still was able to cast his thoughts forward into the future. Somehow, he knew he couldn't. The sight had left him, and would only return if he were to ingest more of the blue liquid. Still, he knew the strange substance had changed him, though he couldn't yet place his finger on the change. Something was different. That much he knew.

Paul was certain about one thing, it was time to leave. In one swift motion, he grabbed his flashlight that lay on the floor, and one of the vials of the blue liquid. He walked to the door, intent on leaving the room, still wanting to find another way out of the lab. He stopped suddenly before reaching the door, his senses screaming in terror. Someone, or something, was waiting for him on the other side. It was as though he could feel their presence, their very being. He didn't know how he was able to do this, but knew the blue liquid was the cause. Paul reached out with his mind, stretched out with his feelings. He did not try…he only did!

Though he could not see them, Paul felt a stronger connection with one of the three entities on the other side of the door that separated them. Familiarity or not, there was no doubting the true danger he was in. Paul was trapped, and helpless, but somehow, he was unafraid. Fear would do him no good in this moment, and he knew it. Paul gritted his teeth, and clinched his fists. He watched as the door handle slowly turned, its hinges creaking gently, as the door swung inward. The sound sliced through the silence of the room like a knife.

Paul's stomach hit the ground when he saw what had been waiting for him.

Standing in the doorway, where three men. Each where clad in a full body-suit made from a thick, almost rubber-like, armor. The odd material clung to their bodies, and was the color of charcoal. Imbedded within the armor, was an array of oddly blinking lights and clumsy looking devices attached at random places. They looked like a mashup of human and machine. The human part looked completely lifeless. All three men were completely bald. One of the men wore a black, curved metal plate for a cap, that looked to be implanted directly onto the man's skull. Each of the intruder's skin was as pale as the full moon. Wires and tubes jutted in and out of virtually every inch of their necrotized flesh, attached to various parts of the dark rubber suit. Perhaps these things were once human, but where no longer. Now they were something else, entirely. Something deadly. Paul's eyes fixated on the one in the center, the one closest to him. Attached to his left eye, literally bolted onto his face, was a large mechanical looking eyepiece. Paul stared at the man, instantly recognizing his friend underneath the mechanical frenzy.

It was Duncan!

Paul's mind whirled with the implications. He didn't know how the professor had come to be this way, but he knew that the man that stood before him, was no longer his friend. The professor was gone, what remained only occupied the body of Duncan Idaho. Paul knew, he had to accept that much of it.

The thing that once was his friend raised a mechanical arm to Paul. Instead of a human hand, a motorized metal claw pointed towards Paul's clinched fist, the same fist that held the vial of the blue liquid. The professor took a step forward. In an eerily synthesized voice, Duncan spoke.

"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated! Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own…

…Resistance is futile!

At that, and by instinct alone, Paul reached out with his mind, now altered permanently by the blue liquid. As though letting go of a great strain, he let loose an invisible volley of stored energy. A wall of a force, flew towards Duncan and his companions. The mechanically enhanced trio flew backwards, slamming hard against the opposite wall of the hallway. Paul stood in utter shock at what he'd just done. He didn't know how he'd done it, and he doubted he could replicate it, should he need to, but he couldn't deny, that it was he that had accomplished this seemingly impossible task. He watched as the three men collapsed to the ground in a stiff mass of mechanical arms and legs, like lifeless mannequins tossed in a dumpster. The three didn't appear to be in pain from the ordeal, but they did seem stunned, at least temporarily.

Deciding not to gamble with any further unnecessary conflict, Paul ran past the three, dashed down the hallway, and darted back into the room with the hanging worms, now his only known means of escape. He had to risk going back through the main entrance now.

Without even the slightest attempt at silence, Paul bounded through the double swing doors and ripped through the plastic barrier. He stopped dead when he saw what waited for him in the room.

Snaking their way through the bodies of the hanging worm-like creatures, where six, perhaps seven, more of the cybernetic invaders. More of these, Borg! Through the mass of worms, Paul could see that each of them were every bit a mix of technological, and biological, as the professor had been. Like the walking dead, they slowly, methodically, advanced towards Paul, blocking his way to the other side of the room that led to the exit. He was trapped! He turned, hoping to find the doorway still open to escape, but instead found only the Professor, and his two cybernetic comrades. Paul was hopelessly surrounded!

Paul noted that, none of the mechanical zombies appeared to be in much of a hurry in getting on with their attack. They approached with a confidence that spoke only to their superiority. They were going to win. Why waste energy on the inevitable. Paul could detect a definite level of computation at this action, of cooperation. As though the group where acting in perfect unison. Not as individuals, with unique goals and wants, but as one mind, one consciousness.

With nowhere to run, Paul backed up to one of the large room's cinder-block walls. He pressed his back against to the wall as far as he could, and watched as Duncan and the rest, slowly advanced. The Professor raised his arm, once again revealing the deadly, completely inorganic, razor sharp metal of the claw that should have been his hand. Paul couldn't help but stare at the beastly appendage as it closed in on him, snapping open and closed threateningly. When open, Paul noticed that extending themselves out from the center of the claw, where the palm should have been, where two small drill bits. His eyes went wide when the drill bits spun themselves to life, each reaching dangerous velocities. The very thought of the drill bits digging into his soft flesh, sent waves of terror through Paul. He ran the familiar litany against fear through his mind over and over again, just to keep from collapsing into a sobbing mess.

"I will not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little dea…"

Cutting off his words, the professor lunged at Paul. Paul managed to fend off the attack by bringing up the flat of his boot, and kicking Duncan away, before quickly darting into the mass of hanging worms. Hoping to slow down his attackers, Paul pushed hard onto every worm he met, setting as many of the bodies in a swinging motion as he could. He also hoped he might wake some of the creatures, forcing his attackers to deal with the worms, rather than him. However, none came to life.

As if from out of nowhere, another Borg appeared directly in front of Paul! He bent down, just managing to dodge a powerful blow from the machine arm of the mechanical man. Paul almost went to the floor, but managed to scrabble to his feet and fumble his way deeper within the sea of hanging worms. Within seconds, he'd ran into another wall, trapped once more. He turned, finding himself completely surrounded by the Borg, Duncan leading their slow assault. He had nowhere left to go.

With few options left, Paul reached into his pocket, and pulled free that small vial of blue liquid. He held it up for the professor to see. In a blink, Duncan ceased his approach. Paul's eyes fixated on the man he'd once considered his closest friend, and mentor. He grasped the vial in his fist, and with his thumb, popped off the black topper. The two watched as the cap fell to the floor as if in slow motion. Paul looked back to Duncan. With a smile, he began tipping the vial over, spilling some of its contents to the floor. Everything froze, silence fell. Only the sound of the single drop of blue liquid could be heard as it sliced through the air on its way to the floor, every eye tracing its path. Paul, along with every Borg in the room, watched in quiet reverence as the droplet came crashing to the concrete. The room erupted in chaos when it did!

For in that very moment, ALL the worms that dangled from their chains came to life. Without the slightest trace of a struggle, several of the closest worms lept effortlessly from the hooks they hung from, landing on the floor in an oddly graceful thud. The closest worm let out a horrific roar, sending soundwaves of death reverberating throughout the room. Within the scream, Paul could smell the now familiar scent of cinnamon radiating from the hot breath of the giant beast. It felt like a furnace.

The closest worm wasted little time. It reared up, and struck out towards Duncan. Paul watched in a palpable mixture of disgust, horror, and relief as the worm swiftly overpowered the professor, ripping his friend's body, limb, from cybernetic limb. Bits of flesh, motors, servos, flew in every direction. Wires, and plastic tubing. Curiously, no blood. In moments, the body of Duncan was gone, leaving only a pile of human and machine parts in its wake. Paul was certain, no one could have survived the ordeal…

Moments after the first of the creatures hit the ground, the rest managed to free themselves. The floor soon came to life with the swaying, sliding motions of the great worms. The Borg never stood a chance. The beasts swarmed towards them, dismantling each in turn. Seconds after the onslaught began, it ended. Silence once again, invaded the room.

Paul stood frozen, still holding the vial at an angle, though not enough to spill any more of the blue liquid. He started in fright, when the largest, and closest of the worms, the one that had attacked Duncan, glided next to him, and lifted its mouth to match his height. It paused, seemingly staring at Paul, looking at him without eyes. The worm's segmented mouth opened, revealing thousands upon thousands of tiny, crystalline-like, razor sharp teeth. The beast let out another bone chilling roar. It felt like a blast of fire slamming into his face, threatening to strip his flesh from his bones.

Time seemed to stand still as he stared down the gullet of the beast. He knew he should be afraid. Understood the danger the creature represented. Knew that at any moment, it might decide to tear him apart, no different, and with no more effort, than it had the professor. But he felt no fear. No worry, or peril. If the worm decided to kill him, he would accept it. But if it found him worthy…

As the worm exhaled, Paul detected another burst of cinnamon. It was only then that he remembered the vial he held in his hand, and the blue liquid it contained. It too had the same odor. Realization flew through him. It was the same. The liquid came from these things. He saw the connection, and he knew what to do. What the beast wanted him to do. It was testing him. It was giving him time. Time to try.

With no further hesitation, Paul acted. In one swift motion, he crooked his arm, held the vial to his lips, and dumped the entirety of its contents down his own throat. It took less than a heartbeat for him to feel the effects of the drug, but he didn't have time to experience the same prescient sight that he so reveled in before. In almost the same instant as he ingested the blue liquid, the worm slid up to Paul. Unable to move, Paul could only watch in utter astonishment as the beast worked its way up his body, starting at the legs. The worm flattened its own body, wrapping itself around Paul, engulfing him, forming itself in every way to Paul's body, and encasing him in a second skin. Skin that was not his own. Soon after, all the other worms began to approach. They too transformed their bodies from their rough, iron-hard flesh, to a soft, malleable form. They too inched their way up and around Paul's body, coating him in layer upon layer of worm, until only his face remained uncovered, until even that was buried.

His senses left him. He thought he felt as though time was passing, but he couldn't be certain.

He felt like a lot of time was passing…


	7. Ep 1: Chapter 7

7

"He's coming around, Doctor."

The gentle voice of an unknown woman, cut through the fog of unconsciousness. For Paul, the voice was like a lifeline, a rope that he knew connected back to the waking world. At long last, he had discovered the path out of the long sleep. He had no idea, just how long it had truly been.

Paul strengthened his resolve, and pulled himself further out of the haze.

"Thank you, Alissa." A second woman said. This voice too, was tender and unmistakably feminine, but spoke with authority and confidence. _Is this the doctor_ , Paul thought?

"Nurse, if you would please administer a slight simulate. It should help him wake."

"Yes doctor." The first voice said with cautious enthusiasm.

Paul felt something cold touch his arm near the shoulder. There was no pain, but he could feel the presence of a foreign substance infusing itself into his bloodstream. He was still physically and mentally immobile, having no ability to resist the injection of the unknown drug, so he relented, and allowed this stimulant, whatever it was, to do its work. In moments, his head began to clear. He tried opening his eyes, but still could not move. He conceded to wait, and let the drug continue to work, while he listened intently on what was happening around him.

"Captain. You may approach now. He's waking up."

 _Captain?_ Paul thought. _Am I on a ship? There aren't any military or naval bases around?_ Somehow, Paul knew that the was nowhere near where he had been.

Through his closed eyes, Paul could sense that he was lying on a bed in the center of a small room. He also felt the presence of people in the room. Five, perhaps six. The two closest to him, women, where the ones that had spoken. Paul could feel that both women emitted emotions of empathy and caring, as though they were truly worried for his wellbeing.

 _Caretakers_ , Paul thought. _Doctors…_

There were others in the room. All male, three…no, four of them. Three of the men stood guard a few steps away. Of the three, one of the men felt…different somehow, though Paul couldn't put a finger on this, inconsistency. But there was no mistaking the three's intensity. They watched his every move like a hawk, ready to strike out at the slightest provocation. But along with their intensity, Paul could also feel an impressive amount of personal control. Somehow, he knew that none of the three would attack, unless provoked. _Police? He_ thought _. Security?_

The fourth male slowly approached the bed. Paul felt power spark off the man like a live wire. He was like controlled fire, energy stored and contained, but kept near the surface always. There was no mistaking it…

He knew, this was the Captain.

There was no mistaking the high level of anxiety from all those in the room. Somehow, Paul knew that he wasn't the source of their fear, however. That came from something else, something elusive. Something that he had to discover. He needed answers. He needed to know where he was. Paul tried sitting up, making it a significant distance to a sitting position before faltering. He struggled to retain his posture, but found his muscles atrophied and not up to the task. He nearly flopped back to the bed before he felt a hand gently place itself on his back, aiding him. He opened his eyes, but instantly slammed them shut, blinded by the brightness of the room. He lifted a hand to his face, covering his eyes, and blocking some of the light. Cautiously, he opened them again.

Paul felt the hand move from his back to his shoulder. He turned his head towards the hand, and followed the arm up to the woman that had helped him. She was a slender woman with well-defined facial features, striking blue eyes, and blazing red hair. He thought her oddly dressed for a doctor, or nurse. She was wearing what was clearly a medical lab coat, but blue, not the customary white. Under the lab coat, the woman wore a blue and black, one-piece, nearly skin-tight garment, _almost a leotard_ , Paul thought. To Paul, her outfit looked more like, pajamas.

"Take it easy." The woman said reassuringly. "We've managed to extract most of the toxins, but we couldn't remove them all. I'm afraid you'll have to live with the effects of the drug. At least for now. It will be some time before you're back on your feet."

 _Drug?_ Paul thought. _The blue liquid. The worms_. _Where am I?_

Though he thought the words clearly enough, Paul couldn't seem to find the strength to speak them aloud. He grew frustrated, and instead just nodded at the woman absently. She pulled out a small gray box from her lab coat. She flipped open the device, and detached a small cylindrical object from its top. She stared at the little gray box as she glided the cylinder over and around his body in a way that told him she was scanning him somehow. As she did this, Paul moved his gaze about the room, his hand still shielding his eyes from the brightness.

He was indeed on a medical bed, at the center of a small room, though it looked nothing like any hospital room he'd seen before. It was lit by a large, overhead, examination light, directly over his bed. The walls were painted a pleasant off-white pearl color, and the floors were carpeted in a pale blue. Along the wall to his left, Paul saw a line of additional medical beds. Opposite that, to Paul's right, was a large black display, which seemed to be showing Paul's medical readout, perhaps populated by the data the doctor was collecting from her scanner.

Paul looked over, spotting the man he somehow knew to be the captain. He was standing firmly near the foot of the bed. Like the doctor, the man wore a tight single-suit, though of a different color scheme. The bottoms of the one-piece suit where black, like the doctor's, but his top was a bright primary-red, with a section of black covering the shoulders and color. Paul wasn't sure what to make of the obvious uniform, or what the different colors represented, so he focused on the man instead.

Through the slits of his fingers, Paul could see that man did indeed emote power and confidence. He guessed his age somewhere in the forties, perhaps a bit older. He was trim, and extremely fit. What little hair the man had, was almost completely gray, and cropped closely to the sides of his head, but this did little to minimize the effect of the man's overall aura of command. The captain said nothing. He only stood, as if a statue, examining Paul, as if seeing directly into his very soul. After a moment…

"My name is Captain, Jean-Luc Picard. You're onboard the Federation Starship, USS Enterprise."

Paul started, not knowing at all what to make of what he'd just heard. _Federation…Starship? Enterprise…an American Ship?_ Paul's confusion only increased when he looked to the three men that stood guard at the doorway. Each wore uniforms like the Captain, and the Doctor, but in the color of a golden-yellow, instead of red or blue. Paul's eyes went wide when he looked closer at the three men.

Two of the men were clearly human. The one at the center was not! Standing a good head taller than any other in the room, the man at the center looked as alien as anything Paul had ever imagined. His body was unmistakably human in appearance, if not bigger than most. But that was where the similarity to any homo sapien ended. Starting at his brow, was a cowl of deep ridges that extended to nearly the top of his head. The rest of his brown hair was pulled back into tight braid. His skin was dark, and his teeth were heavily yellowed and sharpened. The man wore a thin mustache, and goatee. Over his broad chest, the alien wore a silver metal sash of some sort, separating his gold uniform from the rest. As if he didn't already stand out.

Paul pulled his hand from his eyes in shock, trying to get a better look, but returned it when he found that he still couldn't take the bright light. The doctor seemed to finally take notice.

"Nurse," said the doctor, "please lower the light level by three units."

"Yes, doctor Crusher." Came a reply from second woman.

The lights dimmed soon after. Paul slowly removed his hand, though he cautiously kept his eyes closed. He opened them a bit at a time, carefully allowing only a fraction of the world to seep in, until they were fully opened. He looked to the captain.

Picard, upon seeing Paul's eyes, Took a quick step backwards. Curious, Paul looked to the doctor, who inhaled deeply when she met his gaze. She also took a sharp step back, instinctively. When the doctor moved, she revealed a mirror on a swing arm that had been behind her. Paul hadn't noticed it before. He gasped when he saw his own reflection. His eyes, which had always been a pleasant mixture of brown and green, were now totally dark-blue. Almost black. Paul stared at his own, blue within blue eyes, without any white in them at all. He looked back to the Doctor, horrified by his own reflection. She returned the look in kind.

 _They're afraid of me?_ Paul thought.

"It's a Sith Lord!" The large alien guard shouted.

Paul looked back at the three guards. All three where now pulling what looked to Paul to be a small gray device from a pocket hidden in their uniform. Each device was small enough to easily fit within a palm, but somehow, Paul could feel their power, and the destruction they were capable of unleashing. His body stiffened involuntary from the danger as he stared down the three men. The one at the center, who was just a bit faster than his human counterparts, held his gaze.

Time slowed. The room became motionless. Sitting on the medical bed, Paul watched as the huge alien aimed, then discharged the small weapon at him. He mired at the odd beauty of the orange-red beam of blazing plasma, that shot quickly at him. Not fast enough though. With only minimal effort, Paul slid off the bed and arched his body around the path of the beam. To Paul's perspective, his movements, and that of the beams, appeared agonizingly slow. But he knew that to the others in the room, his motions were a blur of impossible speed. When he was confident that he had taken himself out of harm's way, his perception of time returned to normal. He watched as the beam shot harmlessly past him, striking the wall behind. Paul looked back at the big man, who was readying himself, and his weapon, for another shot.

Like before, in the factory with Duncan and the Borg, Paul reached out his hand, reached out with his mind, and prepared to discharge his own internal FORCE at the alien and his two comrades. From his body, Paul unleashed an invisible wall of energy. It slammed into the three men, sending them crashing to the wall behind them, and down to the floor.

Paul stood, watching the others in the room. He saw the fear in the doctor's eyes, and in her nurse. He hated the fact that it was him that had brought that fear about. He didn't want this. He didn't want conflict. He didn't want to hurt anyone. But he also didn't want them to hurt him. Paul looked to the Captain, raised his arms, and tried to look as non-threatening as he could. The Captain returned a look of concern to Paul. Not for himself, but for his crew.

"Please," Paul pleaded. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Captain, he is from the Empire! He is a Sith! The Sith are without honor! He must be destroyed!" The big alien demanded as he struggled back to his feet.

The Captain looked over Paul, carefully. Behind the Captains pale blue eyes, Paul could see a whirlwind of calculation, though no emotion shown on his face. After a moment…

"Hold your fire Mr. Worf." The Captain said calmly. The order held no ambiguity, as the big man instantly, though reluctantly, obeyed. The three men each lowered, but did not holster, their weapons.

The Captain took a small step towards Paul.

"We mean you no harm," the captain began, "but we will defend ourselves if we have to."

Not knowing what to say. Paul placed his wrists together, and held his hands out, surrendering himself to be cuffed. It was the only thing he could think of to show his acquiescence. The captain gave Paul a look of confusion, as though not knowing what the gesture symbolized, but eventually came to understand. He nodded at Paul.

"Mr. Worf…" Picard said. "Please escort our guest to the brig."

Paul looked at the captain in astonishment, but nodded approvingly after a thought. They would be less afraid of him if they thought him contained. If they felt safe. And somehow, he knew that no jail these people could conceive of, would contain him now, should he wish to be free. The big man approached Paul, and gestured for him to move to the door. Paul did so without resistance, but looked at the captain once more before exiting the room. The Captain nodded, and said…

"Welcome onboard the Enterprise…My lord..." Picard said, clearly trying to pry out a name from his guest.

"Atreides…Paul, Atreides."

The captain only nodded.


	8. Ep 2: Chapter 1

Episode Two:

Encounter of Worlds

1

The main cargo bay of the U.S.S Enterprise, flagship of the United Federation of Planets, was dimly lit. The stench of death hovered in the smoke-filled air. Laid out on the floor, like a post war triage unit, where the heavily necrotized bodies of the twenty-two deceased larval sandworms, found floating in an extremely high orbit around an unmapped gravitation anomaly, to which the ship was now in route.

Alone, Captain Picard knelt over one of the worms. He'd already removed the thick, barely translucent plastic, covering the corpse. He stared at the thing, partly in reverence, partly in sadness.

 _How did we come to this?_ He thought to himself as he gazed at the dead body of the magnificent animal. His mind raced through his most recent memories, trying to make order of the chaotic events that had taken place over the past several days. _How reckless we've become_?

Picard reached out a hand, and felt the worm's thick, iron-hard hide. He closed his eyes, and shook his head.

The Enterprise had been tracking an unusual power signature that had led them deep into the demilitarized zone separating the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. For generations, the many races of Federation, and their Romulan counterparts, had observed a tentative peace. A peace earned by the deaths of countless millions in a near endless war. Humans proved invaluable during that pivotal conflict. Because it was they, armed with their advanced ability to compromise and cooperate, a trait that had evolved naturally through centuries of hardship surviving in a post-nuclear holocaust, that forged the ultimate and lasting alliance between the quarreling races, and set the stage for what was to become the Federation. With this new alliance, and with the humans spearheading the fight, the combined power of the many, pushed back against the hoard. After the war, the Neutral Zone, a lasting symbol of that great conflict, was charted. It had stood the test of time, and kept the peace for hundreds of years. No ship, from either side, had ever violated the sacred borderlands. Until now…

 _Until me!_ Picard thought to himself.

But in truth, the choice to invade the Neutral Zone was not the captain's, but that of the Federation Council. _The rewards were too great to pass by_ , Picard thought, knowing that if he had refused his order, they would have simply sent another ship.

The Enterprise had not sought out to uncover treasure, nor to insight the possibility of another war. Even though both now seemed inevitable. Originally, they were sent to investigate the disappearances of several of the Federation's outlying listening posts. Decades past, a line of Starbases had been strategically placed along the Neutral zone, forever keeping a watchful eye over the secretive Romulans. Days earlier, several of the most distant outposts, stationed near the wilderness, the space that separated the Alpha Quadrant, and the untold vastness, and mythical dangers, of the Galactic Empire, had gone dark. The Enterprise was sent to find out why. And if he was being honest with himself, Jean Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise, had to hide his delight for the assignment. To Picard, the Federation, and all the other worlds of the Alpha quadrant, felt small and insignificant, when compared to the realm of the Empire. His inner explorer wanted nothing more than to let go of the reigns the held him back, and delve into the unknown of what lie beyond the vail. To find out what really was out there. But duty had always found a way to prevent his departure. This time, it was duty that propelled him forward.

But when the Enterprise reached the frontier, their worst fears were realized. They did find the heavily fortified Starbases, carefully planted in four different star systems. But they were too late. Each had already been totally obliterated, ripped from their foundations, leaving almost trademark craters in the bedrock of the planets they'd been constructed on. They found no survivors. To Picard, the level of devastation all but eliminated the Romulans, so he turned his suspicions towards the malevolent Galactic Fleet and their powerful Star destroyers. Preparing for the worst, and to help even the odds should a confrontation with the Empire arise, Picard had contacted the Federation, and called for a full complement of Battelstars to their position. But the nearest fleet was still two days out, and that was before they had entered the Neutral Zone. They were on their own.

But the destruction of their bases was only the beginning of their odd journey. Not long after, the Enterprise encountered a small YT-1300 class, Corellian freighter, with an unusual passenger, a young woman, and claimed representative of the Imperial Senate on Coruscant, Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. Like the Enterprise, this young Imperial Royal had also been investigating a series of unexplained disappearances along the Empire's border, on their side of the wilderness. According to the princess, their listening posts had suffered the same fate as the Federation's. It appeared they had a common enemy. At least that's what their guest believed. But unlike the captain, Princess Leia's suspicions only pointed towards one direction. The Romulans!

It was of course common knowledge that the Romulans, armed with their nearly impenetrable cloaking devices, had given the Empire endless trouble though the centuries. And indeed, the rocky relationship between the two powers had served the Federation well. In the past, the Romulan Star Empire had served as a sort of border wall against the larger and more powerful, Galactic Empire. The Romulans greatest advantage had always been in their ability to instill a strongly ingrained, and often unsubstantiated, fear of their race within their opponents. Why fight when you can make your enemies too afraid to attack? The citizens of the Galactic Empire seemed unusually susceptible to this sort of frequently used Romulan rouse. Picard always viewed their fears of the unknown, as a weakness.

But to the captain, the outright aggression of the attacks was uncharacteristic for the Romulans, who would much rather sit on the sidelines and wait for a more opportune time to strike. But then again, one would be a fool to underestimate the cunningness of any Romulan tactitioner, and Picard new this all too well.

In the interest of cooperation, Picard and the Princess decided to combine their resources and work together. And, with that in mind, the Princess provided the Enterprise with a power signature she'd been tracking. With no success. She believed that if they traced the coordinates of this rare signal back to its origin, something her chartered freighter, the whimsically named, Millennium Falcon, seemed incapable of doing on its own, this would lead her straight to those responsible for the attacks. Captain Picard was hesitant, and suspicious, especially when he learned from where the signal was emanating, none other than the Neutral Zone itself. He refused to violate the treaty, but the power signature proved to be far too tempting for the Federation Council to pass up. They overrode his command, and ordered the Enterprise into the Neutral Zone to track and retrieve the power source, the most sought after, and valuable commodity on the known universe…

The spice!

But not just any spice. The radiation signature given was that of the most potent form of the Mélange. The life blood of the larval stage of the great sandworms of Arrakis. The water of life!

And when the Enterprise closed in on the source of the signal, they encountered something no one expected. Orbiting some still unknown gravitation disturbance, was none other than the worms themselves, found floating in the dead of space, curled into a large ball, and wrapped around the man they now held in their brig. The further they went down the rabbit hole it seemed, the more enigmatic things became. Picard felt as though events were spiraling out of his control. And that, above all else, was why he was here, alone in a cargo bay. He needed to find an answer. He needed perspective.

But to his dismay, Picard heard the sound of the large metal doors of the cargo bay coming to life. _Never a moments peace_ , he thought to himself. He did not turn to see who it was that had come calling. He knew who it was.

The heavy cargo bay door bifurcated itself at the center and slid open. A streak of light sliced through the smoky room. A tall shadow projected itself along the wall opposite to the door. Picard could see the outline Will Riker's broad shouldered, slightly husky frame. He pretended not to notice the intrusion as the commander entered the room.

"The prisoner is secure, sir." Riker said in a tone that only hinted at a report. Picard nodded slightly in a motion that was just shy of imperceptible. Riker grimaced, squinting his right eye slightly before taking another step into the room. "We're still tracking the gravimetric disturbance like you asked sir. We should be within visual range soon." Picard continued to stare at the dead husks laid out before him. Riker began to grow frustrated and confused by his captain's unusual display of indifference. He took a third step into the cargo bay, prompting the main doors to slide shut. When the room was once again cast in shadows, and the silence returned, the captain spoke…

"And the Imperial Battle Cruisers?" Picard said passively.

"No change, sir." Riker said, his concern growing.

A few hours before their encounter with the worms, the Enterprise had detected four Imperial Star Destroyers holding a position on the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone. It was unprecedented. Imperial starships, enemies to the Romulan Empire, holding fast within their territory, apparently going unchecked as they invaded their space. _Could this signify a shift in their alliances._ Picard thought to himself. Werethe Romulans and the Empire, now working together? Preposterous, but not impossible…

"And what does our royal guest have to say about them?" Picard asked, still staring ahead.

"Her escorts, nothing more," Riker stated bluntly. "Sent here personally by the Emperor himself to ensure her safety. According to the princess, they will keep their distance, so long as she remains out of danger." Will Riker finished, though lacking conviction, as though he did not believe the truth in his own words.

"Four Star destroyers against one Federation exploration vessel," Picard offered, "what possible threat could we pose?"

"I'm not entirely convinced they are with her, captain." Riker said. Picard smiled a half smile to himself.

"We've verified her identity, number one. She is a member of the Imperial Senate. What possible reason would she have to lie?" Picard asked, though not in an inquisitive way. His words and tone were more, testing, in nature. He wanted Riker to tell him what he really thought.

"What better face card could she hold?" Riker said. "To insure her protection against an unknown opponent. If she really were alone out here, in the wilderness, and four Imperial star destroyers just happened to show up…"

"You're saying she's bluffing?" Picard asked.

"I am sir." Riker stated emphatically. "In fact, I don't think she's aligned with them at all. There are rebel factions within the Empire. Those that would prefer to see a more…democratic form of government return to the galaxy."

"Careful Will," Picard cautioned, "it's not our place to get involved in their squabbling." He smiled, but never took his eyes off the worm bodies on the floor of the cargo bay. "Besides," he reached down to feel the roughness of the worm's skin. "It would appear we have more immediate problems on our hands." Picard closed his eyes. Riker took another step forward, realizing for the first time, the reverence his captain was giving these creatures.

"I've seen them once." Riker said, his statement garnering some of the captain's attention.

"Really?" Picard said, half in jest, and half in interest. Almost teasing.

"Yes. It was when I was a boy. On one of my father's earlier diplomatic missions, not long after my mother died. His idea of, bonding I suppose." Riker said sardonically, with a goodly bit of apprehension. As though the recollection of his father's lack of paternal interest, and his mother's untimely death, had taken the heart out of his story. He continued anyway, but with a more, muted enthusiasm. "He was sent on a sort of, information gathering mission for the Federation, deep into the heart of the Galactic Empire, not long after the fall of the Republic. They wanted to know what this new shift in politics meant for the Alpha Quadrant." Riker continued. Picard nodded his understanding of the history. "We were supposed to meet one of the Emperor's liaisons on the desert planet were the worms propagate." Riker's eyes glazed over from the memory. "I'll never forget it. Standing on the dune crest, looking out on a sea of sand, seeing that massive wave of earth and silt, rising before us. The sight of that giant worm bursting through a billion tons of desert, with no more effort that a fish breaking the surface of the water. A beast at least a hundred meters long, perhaps more." Riker exhaled slowly. "It was breathtaking." He closed his eyes, now in his own form of reverence. "Tatooine…" He said with praise.

"Arrakis." Picard corrected with the planets original, and more proper name. Riker looked down to Picard with a gleeful grin.

"Dune." Riker stated emphatically, as though compromising with the informal, but very descriptive, name of the desert planet. Picard huffed, before returning his gaze to the worms, apparently uninterested in a debate of planetary designations.

"Shai-Hulud." The captain whispered.

"Sir?" Riker asked, confused.

"An ancient Fremen term." The captain said. "Those that struck out from Earth first, and colonized Arrakis, before scattering humanity amongst the stars." Picard's face turned to a serious expression as he looked back on the worms. "Shai-Hulud." He said. "Old man of the desert…"

"I thought it was the lost tribe of the Jedi that where the first to leave Earth, after the Eugenic Wars?" Riker said, slightly confused.

"Yes…" Picard whispered as he stared out onto the worms. "Many believe them to be the same. Both lost to history. Vanished without a trace." His eyes glazed over. "Perhaps one day, the Jedi will return…"

"Captain, are you, all right?" Riker asked. But his concern seemed to go unnoticed.

"Quite all right, number one." The captain whispered, not taking his eyes off the worms.

Riker wanted to continue to prod out the real answer, but before he could utter a word…

"Your wrong, Will." Picard said, Riker Grimaced. "You did meet the Emperor's liaison that day on Arrakis."

Not knowing what to say, Commander Riker stepped back from the worms. He had never considered it before, the thought that they had not been invited to Tatooine to discuss some political intricacies, or to form some new alliance with one of the Emperor's officials. Riker saw now what Picard picked out so clearly. They were not there to meet with a senator, or Governor, or any other lackey of Galactic Empire. They were there to see the power the Emperor held. Nothing more. He controlled the worms. He controlled the spice. He who controls the spice controls the universe. Riker's head spun, his thoughts tangled in confusion. He left the memory, and his captain and ventured to the side wall of the cargo bay, to a workbench that held the prize the Council sent the Enterprise into the Neutral Zone for. Riker approached the small table.

Sitting on top the metal workbench was a heavily reinforced, transparent aluminum, containment vessel, which held the highly concentrated form of the spice Mélange. Only a few hours before, the substance coursed through the veins of the man they now held in their brig, the man they found floating in space, protected by the worms. Their captive Sith-Lord, this young Paul Atreides.

Riker continued his trek towards the vial. As he neared, he could feel the hairs on his arms stand up and react to the intense electrical field that surrounded the workbench. The forcefield only grew in strength as he closed the distance. Riker's interest in the vial pulled Picard's attention away from the worms. He looked over at his first officer. Riker stopped just before the forcefield would have pushed him back. He leaned over, placing his eyeline directly in front of the water of life.

"With this, a ship could navigate entire sectors of the Galaxy, in the blink of an eye." Riker said.

Concerned, Picard stood.

"It's far too dangerous to allow into the wrong hands, number one." The captain said.

"The Empire, you mean." Riker asked, not taking his eyes from the vile, or the blue liquid it contained.

"Anyone." Picard clarified. He walked to the side of the cargo bay, stopping a few steps away from his first officer. "It should be destroyed." He said emphatically. "No good will come of this."

"Of course, sir." Riker whispered, still looking at the vial in wonderance.

"Bridge to Captain Picard." The voice of Lt. Commander Data blurted over the internal coms system. Both officers stood at relaxed attention at the announcement. Picard instinctively slapped his hand to his com-badge to answer the report.

"Picard here." He said aloud.

"We are approaching the coordinates sir." Data announced.

"Commander Riker and I are on our way to the bridge." Picard said. "Please inform our guest to meet us there."

"Understood, sir." Data replied over the coms.

Picard and Riker nodded at one another before hastily exited the cargo bay. Neither man turned to see the worms, or the water of life they died protecting.

Their mission, it seemed, was only beginning…


	9. Ep 2: Chapter 2

2

Captain's Log: Supplemental

With the Enterprise on its second day within the Romulan Neutral zone, we are currently in route the strange gravimetric anomaly we detected once we were close enough, when we discovered the Arrakian Sandworms and their, unusual passenger. By all indications, anomaly's mass appears to displace normal spacetime similarly to that of an average sized star, though the object remains all but invisible to our sensors, even at this close range. It's as though someone, or something, has developed that ability to cloak an entire star system. I've ordered the ship to investigate, in the hopes that we might find some clue as to who was responsible to the destruction of our Starbases, as well as the Imperial listening posts. Because of this, I've called for our Imperial guest, Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, to join us on the bridge, so she may share with us in the unveiling of this mystery. I was surprised to be informed that she had been there for some time, apparently awaiting our arrival.

….

The doors of the turbo lift hissed themselves open to the main bridge of the Enterprise. Captain Picard and Commander Riker, both egger to discover whatever it was the ship was flying towards, exited the lift in hast. Picard departed first, though somehow Riker quickly overtook his captain, and made a b-line for the forward section of the bridge. He walked with his characteristically wide gaunt down the slight decline that skirted the perimeter of the compartment, and stopped just before the enormous main viewer at the OPS console manned by Lt. Commander Data, the ship's second in command. Riker set his arm on the backrest of Data's chair, and casually placed his boot on the arm of the console. The two began exchanging words, no doubt speaking about the operational details of their current mission, though no one else could hear them.

Picard stalled at the rear of the bridge for a moment, his current concern for the engines, and the stress they had been putting on them through of late. Even for the Federation's Flagship, he knew they were pushing them too hard. But they had little option. If the wanted to get into the Neutral Zone, and out again without being detected, they would have to be fast. _But would we fly ourselves apart before then?_ Picard wondered.

Before walking to the very back of the bridge, towards the line of glossy dark-glass terminals that made up the rear wall, Picard stopped by tactical, to speak to his security chief on the status of the prisoner.

"Report, Mr. Worf."

"Captain." Lt. Worf responded. "The prisoner is secure. I placed him in the brig myself and stationed a full security detail at each corridor. I've also ordered each point of egress around the brig to be reinforced with forcefields. He will not escape."

"Very good Worf. The last thing we need right now is some unexpected variable running loose on the ship." Picard said with a serious tone. He wanted to make sure Worf understood that he didn't want to hear about the prisoner again. He needed to focus on the problem at hand, only.

"Sir, the rogue Sith is in the detainment. There he will remain until you say otherwise." Worf replied, equally serious, with an added hint of pride in his work. He even let a small smile escape.

"Very well." Picard nodded, before moving on to the engineering station to speak to the ship's chief engineer, Lt. Commander, Geordie LeForge, and hopefully shed some light on what truly vexed him.

"Tell me some good news, Geordie." Picard said, his voice filled with obvious concern.

Geordie turned away from his console and addressed the captain. His expression and mood were somber at best.

"We're running at the red line, sir. The warp coils are heating up, and I doubt I could squeeze another drop of power from the core." Geordie stopped his report, when he saw the concern growing on his captain's face. Knowing that a full report would do neither of them any good, especially since they had no choice but to continue running the ship at these speeds. LeForge forced a fake smile, and put out a false show of confidence in the state of his engines. "We'll manage sir. We'll have to stop at a Starbase to make repairs as soon as the mission is complete. Maybe even an entire overhaul. But we'll get you where you need to be, Captain."

The false report had the desired effect, and Picard's expression of consternation lessened somewhat, though his face remained stoic. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and nodded as he spoke.

"Thank you, Geordie."

"Anytime, sir." Geordie smiled, returned the nod, then turned back around to his console to resume his work.

Picard turned and paused for a moment as he looked out onto his bridge. He swept his gaze from one side to the other, inspecting each station at a cursory glance to ensure all were at their posts doing their duty, like any good captain would. But he knew how fortunate he was. He had the best crew in the fleet. Though the excellence of his people, did not deter his diligence. After a moment, he too walked down the slight ramp to the front of the bridge, but in a more controlled manner than that his first officer. Even his footsteps where a prime example of efficiency, each step falling with precision, and without an iota of wasted energy.

As he made his way down, he looked over at the chair next to his own, where his first officer traditionally sat. There, sitting in a powerful, regal posture, was the Enterprise's young guest, the beautiful Princess Leia Organa. Picard mused internally at the memory of an elated Commander Riker, eagerly giving up his seat to the Imperial Royal.

Upon seeing the captain's approach, Princess Leia stood from her surrendered seat. Leia smiled at the captain, and he to her. The princess locked on to the captain's unusually powerful, and captivating, gaze.

"I hope you are enjoying your stay on the Enterprise, Princess Organa." Picard said.

"Leia, please." She returned. The captain nodded, though he had no intention of calling her anything other than, princess. Leia stepped away from her seat. "Comfort in immaterial for our present situation, Captain Picard, my presence on board your ship is not for pleasure. I am here under official business of the Imperial Senate, investigating the disappearances of our outposts. Nothing more."

"And what is it exactly you're expecting to find out here, your highness? This far from the core?" Picard asked. "Out here, in the wilderness?"

"Only those responsible for the destruction of our outposts, captain. I assure you." Leia turned down her head, and looked up to Picard. "We only wish to find the enemy. No matter which shadow they are hiding behind."

"Romulans." Picard said, though not in confirmation.

"Tell me captain. Do you still defend a species that has such a reputation? Not to mention such a well-documented hatred of mankind?"

"Mr. Data." Picard turned to his second officer.

Lt. Commander Data, the pale faced android, bolted from his console with surprising speed and agility. Commander Riker, still slightly slouched over the OPS station, stood straight up, and gave his artificial friend a beaming, side-faced smile. Data took a single step towards the Princess.

"Historically, Romulans are an elusive, nearly xenophobic race, revealing themselves only when it suits them. They rarely engage the enemy first, favoring a more calculated approach to aggression. It is far more likely that they would hold back, and allow others to engage in hostility first. All while examining the attacking force from afar, and learning what they can, rather than actively seek conflict." Data concluded.

"Is this your, personal, assessment?" The Princess asked.

"Yes, your highness." Data replied, almost surprised she would even ask. "I am more than capable of deciding such things for myself."

"I see." Leia said, though not without a hint of skepticism. Droids from her homeland tended to be less, individual than that of the federation variety. At least, most of the time. She turned her attention back to the Captain. "If not Romulans then, who else? The Klingons, perhaps? They do possess cloaking technology."

"Such an attack would be without honor." Lt. Worf barked from the tactical console, elevated behind the captain's chair. He sneered down at the Princess. "Though not outside the destructive power of the Klingon Empire." He finished with a sly smile spreading across his lips, revealing his sharpened, yellowed teeth.

"Lieutenant." Picard said, pulling in the reigns. If only a bit.

"Sir." Worf replied before backing down.

"I find it unlikely that any one race from the Alpha quadrant would be capable of such destruction, princess." Commander Riker interjected. "In fact, I find it far more likely that the party responsible came from your homeland, given the level of the devastation. Let's not forget, there are the four star-destroyer class vessels watching our every move, and there have been rumors that the Imperial Fleet has been building a new superweapon. And there are other factions within the Empire itself." Commander Riker took a step forward, advancing slightly on Leia. He stood tall, and squinted his right eye when he talked. "What of this Rebel Alliance? What assurances can you give us that this terrorist organization won't spread their violent actions beyond the wilderness, and spill into the alpha quadrant?"

"The Alliance are not terrorists, Commander." Leia retorted, fiercely ready to defend the actions of the Rebels. She pulled herself back however, the moment she realized what she was doing, and what the commander was doing. He was goading her for the truth, and she was letting him do it. In that moment, she could have strangled him.

Riker on the other hand, had a gleeful smile suddenly slathered across his face, placed there by her slip up. However, as it was apparent by the muted reactions of the rest of the bridge crew, he was the only one that suspected, or cared, that the princess might be a member of this valiant organization. He had his own opinion on the matter, and deeply admired those brave souls that were at the very moment, trying so desperately to return their section of the Galaxy to the relative peace and prosperity of the Old Republic.

"My apologies, your highness." Riker said sincerely. Leia nodded, then turned to the captain.

"I only wish to discover the truth of who attacked us. That is all." Leia said. "Once we are within range of the hyperspace fluctuations, perhaps then we will know." She smiled.

"Sub-space." Commander Data corrected.

"I'm sorry?" Leia twisted her head back and looked at the android in a grimace of confusion.

"You said hyper-space." Data began. "The proper terminology would be a Gravimetric Sub-Space, anomaly."

"Thank you, Mr. Data." The Captain interceded on behalf of the Princess.

"Quite welcome sir." Data replied with a childish expression. He looked to the princess, suddenly realizing that he may have egregiously misread the situation, and unknowingly caused the princess some embarrassment. "It, is a…common misuse of terms." Data began, trying his best to correct the error. "Both are essentially, correct." He finished. Leia nodded and smiled in return. "In context, if not in actuality." Data continued past the point where he'd completed his retreat from insult, but rather than be offended, the princess smiled, and let out a small laugh at the commander's innocent behavior. She found him comforting, and oddly similar to the a few of the droids she'd known of the past.

"Captain! Ahead of us!" The young helmsmen, Ensign Crusher, shouted. His eyes went wide with what he saw in the view screen.

Picard slowly twisted his head and looked at the main viewer. He took several small and controlled steps towards the center of the bridge, standing near Riker and Data. A feeling of dread and panic fell over the room. The captain's Jaw went limp and fell open. The fear from all on the bridge was, electric.

"Shields up." Picard whispered. Though all heard the order, none moved.

They were all too shocked to obey…


	10. Ep 2: Chapter 3

3

Projected onto the main viewer, was an image of an enormous sphere, it's size far past any the bridge crew had encountered before. With a wide-eyed mixture of excitement and fear, each stared at the massive object, as though it was the first thing any of them had ever seen, and no matter how hard, or long they looked, the couldn't seem to accept the reality of what their eyes told them.

"Data." Picard managed to speak through his stunned stupor. "What are we looking at?"

Lt. Commander Data, somewhat shocked to find himself staring at the object, instead of manning his post, wasted little time in returning to his OPS console and begin his scan.

"The object appears almost totally smooth, with little to no variation in its surface." Data said, all ears eagerly listening to every word, though none took their eyes off the dark, gunship-grey sphere. "I'm having difficulty getting a reading, Captain." Data continued, his face contorting into a mimicked grimace of confusion. It was one of the many facial expressions he'd picked up over the years, an attempt to make himself appear more, human. "I believe the object is constructed of a material that absorbs all forms of focused radiation. None of my sensor beams are returning." Data said as he continued tapping commands into his console.

"That's why no one's ever reported it before." Commander Riker wondered aloud.

"Quite correct, Commander." Data said. "I believe that if it were not for the intense gravimetric distortion given off by object's enormous mass, compounded by the enterprise's relatively close range, we would have never detected it." Data looked back down at his console. "Captain, I believe I can estimate the object's size, based on the area of which it blocks the stars behind it, and their known positions in space." The captain could only nod his approval for his second officer's plan. He still found it difficult to speak. "Calculating…" Data said, each member of the bridge crew breathlessly awaiting his report. "The object is spherical, with a diameter of…" Data Paused. "Nearly 200 million kilometers!"

"That's almost as big as the Earth's orbit around the sun!" Commander Riker said. He took a step away from the Princess, herself too stunned to notice anything but the massive object.

"That is correct, sir." Data confirmed.

"Any indication of life?" Riker returned.

"None sir." Data replied.

The two went back and forth for several moments, mincing postulations and possibilities about the object's origins and creators, while all others stood still as stone, staring at the monstrosity. Picard found it all but impossible to peel his eyes away from the thing. The words of his first and seconds officers faded into the background as he tried putting the unknown sphere's unprecedented size into perspective. He failed miserably. But through his failings, came a memory, one from his early days at the academy. With a spark of insight, Picard injected himself onto the conversation.

"Data." He said, still astounded by the object. "Could this be a Dyson's Sphere?"

Data instantly stopped his dialog with the commander. He seemed utterly surprised by the captain's suggestion, and visibly searched his databanks for the reference. An imperceptibly small lapse in time passed, before he had a full understanding of the ancient supposition. He eagerly reported his findings.

"The object does fit the general parameters of Dyson's theory." Data replied.

"A Dyson's Sphere?" Commander Riker asked befuddled.

"It's a very old theory number-one, I'm not surprised that you haven't heard of it." Picard says. "In the 20th Century a physicist named, Freeman Dyson, postulated a theory that an enormous sphere could be constructed around a star, giving the inhabitants nearly limitless energy."

"Are you saying there could be people living there?" Commander Riker returned.

"Possibly a great many inhabitants, commander." Data replied. "The interior surface area of such an object, would be equivalent to over two hundred and fifty million, class M planets."

"The technical sophistication required to even design such a thing…" Lt. LeForge said, leaving the engineering station at the rear of the bridge. He stopped, and stood next to Lt. Worf, as both stared at the view-screen in awe. "No, this goes far beyond the ability of any race I've heard of." He mused.

"Captain." Worf added. "I recommend going to Red Alert!" He placed both hands on the oversized, wood-grained arch that curved around the back section of the bridge, and leaned over his tactical console. "Clearly, whoever it was that attacked our outposts are highly advanced, and aggressive. We should be prepared for battle."

"I agree, captain." The princess finally found her voice. "This is too great a coincidence. We must assume the inhabitants of this…thing, as hostile."

Picard turned back to the main viewer. Though the sight of the newly discovered sphere was indeed impressive, almost overwhelming, he still had a difficult time taking his mind off the memory of the sandworms, floating dead in space. A discovery almost as unbelievable as this. Sandworms of Arrakis, still in their larval stage, lightyears from their home world, orbiting this huge body of artificial construction, and protecting the man they now held in their brig? The Spice, in its most sought-after form? The Imperial ships, holding position within Romulan space? His mind raced with partial facts and incomplete theories that only seemed to pile on top of one another, with no answers in sight. He knew they were all related, but how? A small smile breached the man's otherwise stoic expression as he wondered how his favorite, 1930's era fictional detective, Dixon Hill, would go about solving such a conundrum.

Picard turned and looked at the princess. He seemed to peer into her very soul. Any other individual would have felt at the very least, uncomfortable, by his inquisitive gaze. Leia, only returned the look in kind.

The captain crossed his arms. Then, resting one elbow on the opposite arm, he placed a hand on his chin, his forefinger over his mouth. Silence fell on the bridge, each member of the crew, quite unconsciously, giving their captain time to mull over his impending decision. After a time, Picard removed his hand, brought both arms down to his waist, and rapidly tugged on the tunic of his uniform twice, in quick succession. With authority, he addressed the princess.

"I think it's time you told us what you're really doing here, Princess." Picard said. Leia's face strengthened. She showed no hint of backing down. But neither did Picard. "You would have us believe that the Galactic Senate would send an envoy of your stature, over the destruction of a few, remote outposts?" The princess's expression turned deeply sour at the captain's accusatory tone. Picard slowly advanced on her. It was time for answers. "And the imperial warships," he continued, "holding position on the other side of the Neutral Zone? If they were truly here for your protection, wouldn't you be on board those ships? On their bridge?" Picard continued to push. "You're not here because of the attacks on your listening posts." He concluded. "And neither are they."

Leia turned her head, no longer able to look at the man. Picard took another step closer. She expected him to continue his attack, but the captain's demeanor shifted from aggressive, to passive, in less than a heartbeat. He spoke to the princess in little more than a whisper.

"You're here for the spice." Picard said. It was not a question. Leia's gaze snapped up to meet the captain's, her expression, stern and cautionary. But he continued, regardless. "As are they." He said, referring to the four Star-Destroyers. "Hunting for treasure. Hunting you." He took another, dangerous step closer to the princess. His voiced lowered even more. "You're with the rebel Alliance."

Leia's face contorted instantly to a look of shock. She forced all emotions from her, a desperate, and now seeming futile attempt to shield the truth from the captain. All she allowed herself to feel was anger. Anger at being discovered. At being caught so easily. At failing. And although internally, the princess wanted nothing more than to tear this man, this rouge, limb from limb; externally, Leia wore an expression that showed little more than slight annoyance. But even this, Picard could read like a book. He could see she was angry at him, but not merely for being caught. She was furious that he dared accuse her of seeking out the spice! In that moment, he understood.

"They weren't Imperial outposts that were destroyed," he said, sure of himself. "The bases that where attacked, where part of the rebellion." He concluded. Leia's eyes welled up with tears in an instant. Though she refused to let them fall. She lowered her head, and nodded in confirmation.

"And you don't suspect the Empire?" Commander Riker invaded on the conversation. Leia jerked her head up at the man. She gave him an angry scowl.

"We've been attacked by the Empire before, commander." She glared at Riker. "I can assure you, that we are well aware of the level of devastation they are capable of…and what they are, incapable of." She looked back down to the floor. "I know it wasn't them. In the same way, you knew that it wasn't the Romulans. I know that much." Leia took a breath, trying to clear her head of the anger and confusion. They were only clouding her judgment and her reasoning. When her thoughts had focused, she looked up to the captain. She spoke softly, but with conviction.

"Captain, I don't care about the spice." She said, gazing into his blue eyes. "I'm here because I knew something was out there. Something that was, that is, a danger to us." She took a step forward. "To all of us! I can feel it." She lowered her voice and returned her gaze to the floor. "I can…sense, it." She whispered, mainly to herself. She looked back up to the captain. "It must be stopped."

Her sincerity was all Picard really needed. It was the thing he was trying to pry out of her. He hadn't enjoyed the exchange, but sometimes conflict was necessary in diplomacy. He needed the truth. His ship and his crew were in danger, and he felt confident that he could at least eliminate their royal guest from suspicion. But he still needed answers. Answers that the princess could no longer provide. Picard's expression grew sterner. He nodded at the princess while inhaling deeply through his nose.

"Very Well." He said. Picard angled his body away from the princess. "Counselor."

Counselor Troi, who, up till this very moment, had made no motions or sounds signaling her presence, nor uttered a single word, rose from her seat next to the captain's command chair. Leia watched as the silent woman majestically lifted herself, moving from a seated position, to a poised and powerful posture, standing fully erect and awaiting command. Troi stood motionless, her back arched, arms crossed over one another. She was dressed differently that the other bridge officers. Unlike the standard uniforms of varying primary colors, Troi wore a tight fighting, one-piece, red leotard. Her thick mane of curly dark black hair flowed down past her bare shoulders, themselves left exposed from her absurdly low-cut garment.

Despite her pleasant, almost gentle appearance, Leia found it nearly impossible to look directly at the woman, as though her very presence, now that it had been made known, caused her skin to tingle. It felt as though a thousand tiny insects where crawling all over her. She wanted to look away, to run, but found she could not. She wished only for the woman to leave the bridge. But the effect Troi was obviously having on the princess seemed to go completely unnoticed on the rest, as though Troi's aurora, was detrimental to Leia only.

Picard took a step towards the Counselor. The captain said nothing, but after a time, Troi nodded, as though accepting her orders. She turned and walked, almost glided, to the turbo lift at the forward section of the bridge. The doors to the turbo lift hissed open. Troi entered, then turned, intentionally holding the doors open. The captain turned to his second officer.

"Data." He said.

"Yes, sir." Data replied.

"Go with her. Question our guest in the brig."

"Aye, sir." Data said, before removing himself from his post, which was quickly replaced by another officer. He swiftly walked to the turbo lift and joined the counselor inside. Picard addressed both of his officers before the doors closed.

"And be careful." He said. "We need answers…not casualties."

Data and Troi looked at one another, before returning their gaze to the captain. They both nodded their acknowledgement. The doors closed, almost on que, and the lift zoomed away…

"Godspeed." The captain whispered, mainly to himself…

In dealing with a Sith-Lord, they would need all the luck they could get.


	11. Ep 2: Chapter 4

4

Sitting alone in his futuristic prison cell, still unsure as to what was happening around him; where, or when he was, or even how he had gotten here, Paul anxiously awaited the impending arrival of his two guests, though he had no clue as to how he knew they were coming. No one had told him to expect anyone, or for that matter, had spoken to him at all. In fact, since being delivered here by that steroid infused beast, _Lt. Worf_ they called him, everyone avoided even the faintest of eye contact with Paul. They were all afraid of him, and it showed.

He knew he was going to be interrogated as some point, and perhaps that was all it was, a feeling. A guess as to what would naturally happen. But it was more than that, and he knew it. He could sense their approach. Feel them in the corridors of this, strange… ship. Paul let out a breath, releasing a bit of pent of energy, and stood. He casually began pacing his small cell, examining it, passing the time till they came.

The cell was, at his best guess, about ten feet, by ten feet. The walls were painted a dull light-grey. There was a bed, a small chair, and stainless-steel sink that retracted into the wall, with a mirror above it. He assumed that at some point, a toilet would retract as well, but he hadn't been in the brig long enough to discover that part.

But what truly fascinated him most, was what held him inside his new prison. Nothing seemed to hold him in. There were no bars, or doors…or anything? At the head of his tiny cell, was a large opening that took up nearly the entire wall. Lines of what looked like florescent lights, outlined the opening. A small electrical hum, and a faint smell of ozone, emanated from the cut out. And that was it. It looked like he could simply walk right out, to freedom. But he knew better. He discovered that much the moment he was thrown inside. As, when fully in the room, Paul turned around and thrust himself at the doorway. His entire body slammed into what could only be describe as an invisible wall of energy, clear as crystal, but stronger than steel. Lt. Worf, who had thrown him in, merely laughed, gave the guard that remained a few stern orders, and left. And that was it, Paul was trapped…For now.

But Paul was still amazed at the field of energy that held him in. In fact, for nearly the first hour of his imprisonment, Paul giddily played with the _force-field_ , slowly bringing his hand up to the wonderous barrier, only to have the field coalesce and concentrate around his hand, forcing it away. Each time, he laughed like a child playing with his new toy, but only at the chagrin of his guard, who at one point, actually scolded him to _stop-it_! After that, each time Paul approached the opening, he would quickly tap on the force-field once, just to piss the guy off. The guard now, only rolled his eyes at Paul's immature show of impudence. Paul thought about doing it just then, but opted instead to walk the small mirror above the sink. He wanted to check his appearance before the two officers got there. Somehow, he knew that one of them was a woman, and didn't want to look like a bum.

Once at the mirror, Paul carefully fretted over his reflection. His appearance had changed rather drastically since his last inspection. Long gone was his _MacGyver_ like hairstyle. It had all grown out, falling far past his shoulders, though the color itself hadn't changed, still a nice shade of sandy-blonde. He also had a full beard now, something he was unusually excited to see. In his young life, Paul had made several attempts to grow a beard, but all had been unsuccessful. Paul smiled at that thick display of machismo, but the smile vanished almost instantly when he looked at his eyes. The deep shade of dark-blue-in-blue, without any trace of white in them at all, haunted him, and only served to remind him how he had gotten here. His mind took him back to the room with the worms, and the men that were attacking him. Almost, mechanical…zombies. And his friend, Duncan. He reexamined his reflection, which now struck him as…repulsive.

And what of his new abilities. And the vision he'd seen in his trance. The time that he now knew had passed. Was that how future history really played out? That more than anything, Paul need to know. And he intended to find out. But then…

The large orangish-red door to the brig slide open suddenly. Paul turned to see, as expected, two officers enter the room. A woman, with a full mane of curly black hair that fell past her exposed shoulders, and a…man? Paul's mouth fell open. Whatever accompanied the woman certainly looked like a man, in a way. He had dark, slicked back hair, was of average height, rather trim, and wearing a yellow uniform, not at all unlike that of the security guard. Paul blinked though, when he saw the man's eyes. They were almost as yellow as his uniform. His skin too, was nearly as pale as the full moon. But it wasn't his appearance that startled Paul so, it was the man himself. Paul could not understand how he knew, but he did. The man was not made of living tissue, but was…alive.

The woman was a different story entirely. Paul could barely look at her. From the moment he became aware of her presence in the room, he wanted nothing more than for her to leave. Her proximity made his head feel like it wanted to explode, his skin felt like someone had just poured acid over it. She repelled him.

The woman and her, albino, counterpart, approached Paul's cell.

"Lord Atreides." The pale man said. Paul looked at him only, trying his best to ignore the strange aurora of the powerful woman. "My name is Lt. Commander Data. This is my associate, Counselor Troi."

Paul stiffened, pushing through the power the woman held over him. He would not be so easily defeated.

"We would like to ask you some questions…" Data began, but Paul interrupted with his own.

"What year is it?" Paul asked. He had little interest in playing any game until his own curiosity was satisfied. He needed answers.

Data grimaced, and turned to Troi, who did not once take her eye off Paul. When it became clear that she was not going to acknowledge the commander, Data returned his gaze to Paul's.

"It is stardate, 8475.4." He began. But as before, Paul stopped him cold.

"I don't know what a, Stardate is." Paul said, becoming perturbed. His patience had run fully out, nearly an hour before. Though he couldn't yet explain how he understood it, he knew he was running out of time. They all were. He clinched his jaw, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply through his nose. "I was born on April 11, 1966." He said. Paul opened his eyes, and staring directly at the man. "How old am I?"

Lt. Commander Data cocked his head to the right, then left, but otherwise, did not hesitate in answering.

"One thousand, five hundred fourteen years, eleven months…and two days."

Paul's knees buckled. He knew that he'd been asleep for a long time, but… For a moment, he felt as though he was losing it. But soon realized, that a century, or a millennium, one was no different than the other. His world was gone either way, and he'd already known the truth of that. Paul strengthened his resolve, and looked back to the man with yellow eyes. He still needed answers.

"There was a war." He declared. Data's head twitched again.

"There have been many wars." Data responded.

Paul stared daggers at the pale man. He took a step closer, stopping only when he felt the intensity of the electrified wall of energy, rise. "A nuclear war." He clarified. "A holocaust. On Earth. Sometime in the late twentieth, or early twenty-first, centuries."

"How could you know this?" Data asked. "If the events that led to your arrival, did indeed happen the way you claim?" Data was both suspicious, and curious. Dr. Crushers analysis of the Sith-lord's clothing and artifacts, did appear to originate in the latter half of the twentieth century, but those could easily be falsified. Sith where not to be trusted. Paul thought about telling Data how he knew, about the trance, and what he'd seen there in the dream beyond time, but decided instead to reply with a lesson.

"People escaped the holocaust. They fled to the stars." Paul declared.

"That is… correct." Data replied, stopping midsentence to look to Troi, who still said nothing, only continued to stare at Paul, who no longer seemed to care that she was even in the room.

"Those that left Earth formed a great Republic from the newly colonized worlds."

"Yes." Data said in wide eyed amazement.

"The Republic eventually fell," Paul continued, "devolved into chaos." Paul took another step closer to the edge, dangerously close to the forcefield. His hairs stood on their ends. "But this place..." He looked around him. "This place is somewhere, something else." He said. "You're from an alliance, a… _Federation_." It was not a question. "From those that stayed on Earth. Survived the struggles. Grew stronger."

Data only nodded. "Correct, my Lord." He said. "May I ask? How can you know this?"

"How could you know my age with such precision?" Paul replied, as if saying. I know because of who I am.

"I am an android." Data replied in kind. Paul looked truly shocked, not expecting that response. Though somehow it made total sense.

"You're a robot?" Paul asked in wonderment.

"Actually, there is a distinct difference between a robot, and an android." Data responded curtly. Paul didn't miss a beat.

"Is she a robot too?" He asked offhandedly. Though he already knew the answer.

"No." Data replied, shaking his head. "Definitely not."

Paul tried once again, looking directly at the woman, but found that he still could not. Troi on the other hand, had little difficulty in looking at him. Her stare felt like a thousand pin pricks, stabbing into his skin, all at once. His mind felt like someone was physically reaching into his skull. Troi took two large steps forwards, stopping just beyond the barrier that separated them. Paul didn't back away.

"Why are you here?" Troi asked, not believing for a second that this man was from the ancient past, despite the doctor's report. Sith, could not be trusted.

From the back of Paul's mind, an itch began. He found it impossible to speak, or to even move. The itch became a tingle. The tingle became a slight burn. Perspiration began building on Paul's forehead. If it weren't for the increasing pain he was feeling, bringing his mind into focus, he might have missed the thin membrane of sweat, forming on the Counselor's face as well. She was struggling to maintain control. But he didn't have the time to worry about that. Soon, the slight burn compounded upon itself. Heat, upon heat…upon heat. His mind felt like it was in flames, his eyes burning in their sockets.

"Why are you doing this?" Paul asked the woman.

"I'm testing you." She said calmly.

"Testing me for what?"

"Why are you here?" Troi asked in a gentle, but commanding… _voice_. "A human would have a reason. Tell me yours. If you are indeed, human. Or are you…animal?"

"I told you the truth." Paul said, gritting his teeth from the discomfort.

The pain continued, growing until he feared he could no longer bare it. But he pushed through. Life was pain, and he'd experienced more than his fair share in his young life. Troi felt his resistance, but maintained her assault. The rope of invisible force that connected the two, became taught. Troi was becoming impressed with the boy's fortitude, but she was far from giving in. She redoubled her efforts. Her skin glistened with sweet. Her chest heaved.

"Why are you here?" Troi asked again, more forcefully this time.

"I told you…please, stop!"

Paul's breath shortened. He thought he might pass out.

"Stop!" He screamed.

"Tell me!" Troi shouted. She put all her power into the mind probe.

Paul's world became red with pain. His thoughts roiled with agony. It was then that he recalled what he had gone through the first time he'd encountered the strange blue liquid back in Duncan's lab. And he recalled the litany against fear that helped then. He recanted it now, aloud.

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Though the words helped to buttress his mind against the agony, the pain did not cease. Flames of churning death rolled over in his mind. His body felt like little more than a charred husk, though no physical injury could be detected. He could take no more though. Presently, he screamed out in anguish…

"The pain!" He wailed.

"Enough!" Troi screamed as she fell to her knees. Data rushed to her side to help her, but she quickly pushed him away. "He's telling the truth." She gasped as she knelt onto the cold metal floor of the brig, pulling huge gulps of air into her lungs. She found she could only speak in spurts. "He. Is. Not. Sith." She managed. Troi looked up to Paul, for the first time, sharing with him a look other than despise.

Paul too was having difficulty. He staggered to the one of the sides of the opening to his cell, and leaned against the support, inhaling deeply. After a few seconds, he found the strength to speak.

"Is. She…ok?" He asked the android.

Troi looked up at Paul, amazed that he would be worried for her well-being. _He asks if I am all right_ , she thought to herself. _And After what I just put him through_. She allowed Data to help her to her feet. When she had regained a measure of her previous composure, she looked back at the prisoner, seeing Paul, as if for the first time.

"Why did you surrender?" She felt compelled to ask the question. She more than any other now, understood the power he held.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone." Paul answered truthfully.

Troi looked at Paul, and smiled, satisfied with his answer. She looked back to Data, who was still supporting her weight. She nodded to him that he could let her go now. He did, and Troi promptly stood with poise and confidence. She looked back at Paul, and was about to say something when all three were suddenly flung across the room with tremendous force. It felt like something had physically struck the ship. Troi, Paul, and Data, each slammed against the wall in near unison, then violently crashed to the floor. The guard in the back was able to keep hold of his security terminal, avoiding the calamity. But the first volley was quickly followed by a second, this time in the opposite direction. The guard lost his grip, and went tumbling across the room. Alarm claxons sounded, and strips of red light, flashed on and off, throughout the brig. A familiar voice rang out from the ship's intercom system.

"Red Alert!" The captain shouted. "All senior officers, report to the bridge!"

Data wasted no time in lifting Troi from the floor. Paul managed to find a way to his feet. With no words, or acknowledgement, between the two officers, and Paul, Troi and Data swiftly made their way to the door. But just before he left, Data looked back to Paul. At Paul's surprise, the android shared with him a look that he took to be…friendship? Or at the very least, comradery. Paul didn't know how to respond given the circumstances, so he only returned the look with a nod. Data promptly left the brig, leaving Paul alone with the security guard, who was still struggling to his feet.

Paul smiled at the man. The ordeal with the counselor had been uncomfortable, but informative. He now had a better grasp on his powers, and a glimpse into their usefulness. He now knew how to escape. Whatever _Force_ he now possessed, he knew, could have a significant influence, on the week minded…


	12. Ep 2: Chapter 5

5

"Raarghh-Awwrk-wha-rughh." The mighty Chewbacca wailed from the service access portal in the floor of the ship's main hold, and recreation area.

"No. No, no!" Han Solo, Captain of the Millennium Falcon, shouted as he made his way over to his hairy first mate. He laid on the floor, and stuck his head down into the maintenance hole. "This one goes here. That one goes there." Han said, his patience growing thin. His frustration only increased when he took a closer look at what Chewy was working on. "What! Why are you taking this apart now! I've got half the bounty hunters in this sector after my head, and you decide to…" Han took a breath in an attempt to calm down. It didn't work. "Put it back together, right now!"

"Nrawwkk-ahh-whaawha, whaa." Chewy replied.

"I know what I said. Do you think I want to be docked with this Federation ship?" Han sneered. "Like I had a choice? It's good money…right?"

"Wrrognfffh." The wookie said, shaking his head in obvious disagreement, before returning to his work.

As if on que, Princess Leia, fresh from her encounter with the captain of the Federation Vessel, stormed past the maintenance portal, stomping all the while as she made her way towards the Falcon's secondary cargo hold. Han rolled onto a side as he watched the princess. He scrambled to his feet, losing all interest in his argument with the wookie. He began following the princess, but was stopped almost instantly…

"Excuse me, Captain Solo." C-3PO, the princess' personnel protocol droid, said. Solo's mood went from bad, to worse at the sight of the droid; whom, for Han anyway, seemed to have no purpose on board, other than to serve as his own personal source of aggravation. "I was conversing with your ship's main computer, and discovered the hyperspace motivator has been malfunctioning. It will require repair, I'm afraid."

Han swallowed, trying his best not to take his pride with it. The hyperspace motivator was what Chewbacca had just been working on.

"Really?" Han said sarcastically. "I'm so glad you're here to tell us these things. Of course, it will have to be repaired." He scowled at the droid. Han turned to the maintenance portal, angling his chin down to speak directly into the hole. "Chewy, I think we need to repair the hyperspace motivator." He said under his breath. Soon after, he left the main hold in search for the princess. Chewy merely shook his head, and went back to work.

"Impossible man." 3-PO said to himself as he walked to the engineering section at the rear of the ship to attempt repairs, though he hadn't even the slightest clue as to what a hyperspace motivator even looked like. "I wish R2 where here." He said.

Han left the main hold behind to the sound of Chewy banging on some random piece of machinery, and 3-PO cursing the day he was constructed. He rolled his eyes as he made his way towards the number two cargo hold, where Leia disappeared to.

….

"Of all the self-assured…arrogant…lousy…bald-headed…nerf herders!" The princess shouted aloud, thinking perhaps she was alone, but knowing better.

"I take it the meeting went well?" Han asked, sardonically.

Leia shot the man a glare that could have melted Mandalorian iron. She quickly shrugged it off, choosing instead to turn her attention to one of the cargo containers she'd brought on board. She flipped open the container's lid, and began rifling through its contents in a haphazard, careless way. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, only a distraction. It didn't work however, as she her frustration towards the captain of the Enterprise, and his insolent behavior, only grew. She slammed the lid to the container shut, pinching her hand in the process. In anger, she pushed the container to the ground, spilling the contents to the floor.

"Easy princess." Han said.

Without thought, or permission, Han reached for Leia's hand, and began rubbing her wound. Leia appeared uneasy at the gesture, but not over opposed.

"Stop it." Leia said. "My hands are dirty."

"My hands are dirty too." Han replied.

Leia pulled her hand from his. Though his actions may not have been fully, unwelcome, they were…nontraditional. She turned, and walked to the opposing wall. There she stood with her back to Him. Han stared at the princess as she stood away from him, in the shadows. After a brief pause…

"I take it you found what you were looking for?" He said. Leia flung her head around, giving the captain a dangerous sidelong glare. "Guess that means…you'll be leaving soon?" He asked.

"That's right." She said. "Don't worry captain Solo, you'll get your money, as promised. That is all you really care about."

"Not all." Han said softly. His words however, seemed to fall on deaf ears, as the princess only returned them with silence. "Hey!" He said, his anger growing. He took two large steps towards the princess, wagging his finger at her as he shouted. "I never asked to be part of any rebellion. You're the one with, delusions of grandeur…your highness! You hired me for a job! I'm looking out for number one, princess…me!" He finished, crooking a thumb at his general direction.

He said the words, but meant none of them. Silence fell on the cargo hold, with neither of the two daring to break it. Han looked at Leia, upset; mainly with himself for his outburst, but too proud to take back the insult. But Leia found that she didn't want him to. He said what he felt, if not what he meant. He was raw, a man with little care about the consequences of his actions or words. And his words did have truth to them. If any of these people has something in common, it was their fight for survival. And he had just as much right to that struggle as any other. She wanted to tell him this, but said nothing. She only continued to stare at the man. She could find no words to describe how she truly felt anyway.

"Well," Han said. "I've never been one for long goodbyes. So long, princess." He turned to leave.

"Han, wait!" Leia said, stopping him cold.

Han turned, and met the princess' gaze. The two stared into each other's eyes, both looking as though they wanted to say something, but before either had the chance, the ship was _rocked_ violently to a side! The two of them were flung helplessly across the room like rag dolls, crashing to the grated metal floor of the cargo bay. Mere moments after the first, a second blast propelled the ship in the opposite direction. The pair went flying once more. This time with Leia landing squarely in the arms of Captain Solo. Both Han and Leia successfully managed to make it to their feet, and exited the cargo hold, with Han in the lead as they both ran for the cockpit.

"I knew all you needed was a hug!" Han couldn't help but to lob the tease at Leia, as the duo ran.

"What!" Leia protested. "Clearly you mistake an attack, for affection!" She shouted as she followed on his heels.

The ship continued to jerk about, though none knew what was happening. On their way to the cockpit, Han and Leia ran through the main hold, and past the maintenance portal with Chewbacca still inside, struggling to exit the hole through the cacophony.

"Rawrgwawggrrh."

"Chewy! Stop playing around and get out of there!" Han screamed as he ran past.

"AArarrgwwwh!" Chewy replied, but Han had already past. Chewbacca leaned over, ducking his head in the hole to retrieve something. Just then, the ship was rocked again, knocking a tool box that was placed just a _little_ too close to the opening, into the maintenance hatchway, and hitting Chewy on the head. The huge wookie went into a tirade of intelligible shouts and rants.

"Oh… do be quiet, you overgrown fur ball." 3-PO shouted from the engineering bay as he too was being tossed about, though no one seemed to hear him, or care. Another blast of energy hurled ship out of control, sending the golden droid flying directly into an electrical conduit, and trapping him within a bundle of wires. Stuck, 3-PO lamented on his current circumstances. "Why am I forced to suffer like this. It must be my lot in life." He said.

Eventually, Han and Leia made their way to the cockpit. Han wasted little time in occupying the pilots chair. He hurriedly began punching commands into the control console, and examining the readouts. Leia followed directly, taking the co-pilot's seat. She looked out the cockpit window to the giant alien sphere, outside. Her eyes went wide when she saw what they were moving towards.

"Han! Look!" She shouted.

Captain Solo looked up, seeing what the princess saw. On the surface of the enormous sphere, Han could clearly make out what looked to be an _entrance/egress_ hatchway. They'd found an opening. Or perhaps, the opening, found them!

The massive entryway was in the process of opening. Four sections, each equal to, or perhaps even bigger than, a full-sized Star-Destroyer, slide back and retracted into the sphere, revealing only a curtain of blackness beyond. And they were headed right for it!

"Do something!" Leia said in vain.

"Were caught in some sort of tractor beam!" Han grunted angrily in response. He punched a few more commands into the console. "We're full power! I've got to shut us down." Han looked to Leia, his expression softening somewhat. "There's nothing I can do…"

Leia turned, and looked out the cockpit window once more, this time looking down, beyond her navigation console, seeing the underbelly of the Enterprise the Falcon was docked to. Both ships appeared helpless, like a fly caught in a spider's web. She looked back up to the massive doorway. Inside was black as pitch. She gulped. Her belly began turning in its place. With the inevitable unfolding before her, she knew she would soon face her worst fears…

They all would…


	13. Ep 2: Chapter 6

6

Clone-trooper, TK-847, stood anxiously at the rear of the bridge to the Star-Destroyer, _Nemesis_ , thinking that of all the places they could have chosen to sit and wait, why would it be here? He hated being in Romulan space. He wasn't even sure why they were there. Something about tracking a federation ship in what the locals liked to call, the Neutral Zone. _Stupid name_ , he thought as he lamented on their present situation. They never told him anything. But then again, why would they? Still, he'd much preferred to be hiding out in Federation territory. Romulans were not to be trusted. They were like wraiths; phantoms hiding in the shadows, attacking at will, then slipping back into dust. They did not fight with honor, and that made them dangerous. 847 knew, that at this very moment, they could very well be surrounded by an entire fleet of cloaked warbirds and there would be nothing they could do about it, until it was too late. The thought made his skin crawl. If It were up to him, they would leave this place, and never return.

But it wasn't up to him. A stormtroopers place was not to question orders, but to follow them. Cloned soldiers like him, like all on board, were raised from their birthing chambers for one purpose only, to obey the Sith master that commanded their assigned regimen; to the death, if necessary. They were a weapon, not at all unlike the blaster 847 held at his side, nothing more. Freewill was not on option for them. And deep down, TK-847 knew it.

After a long shift of ensuring the security of the featureless metal wall opposite to him, TK-847 was tired. He tried to stay awake, but soon found himself dosing off; when suddenly, the doors to the main lift crashed open! He nearly jumped out of his armor! Embarrassed at his overreaction, 847 quickly snapped to attention, though he doubted he could move fast enough to make up for his lackadaisical response time. He looked up, to inspect the lift's occupant. There he found a man dressed in a dark hooded cloak standing stoically with his forearms crossed, hands burrowed deeply inside the sleeve of the opposing arm. The man wore his cowl up, concealing much of his features behind hard lines of shadows. 847's belly turned as the man exited the lift.

With no further thought, 847 stiffened, and saluted his Sith-Commander! Though his master did not return the salute, or acknowledge the trooper in any way. He just stood there, staring directly ahead, at 847, but through him at the same time. TK-847 remained still, body tense. Salute fixed. He stared into the eyes of his master, those dark blue gems of a full Sith-lord. Blue-in-blue, without any white in them at all. He dared not look away. _If there were truly a match in the universe for a Romulan's menace, it would be a Sith_!

After what felt like an eternity, though in reality only a few seconds had passed, the Commander broke eye contact with the trooper and turned, walking away towards the head of the bridge, as though nothing had happened. 847 kept his helmet aimed straight ahead as the Sith made his way to the forward compartment. But eyes never left sight of his master. He understood the truth of what had happened. The encounter was meant as a lesson, a reminder.

 _There are worse things in this universe than phantoms…don't let your guard down, again!_

….

The commander continued walking in an almost pious march to the forward section of the compartment, hooded and cloaked in the traditionally darkened robes of his ancient order. He crossed the command level's narrow walkway, bisecting the two large pits filled with bridge officers trying to look as occupied as possible. None dare eye contact with their master as they went about their duties. The commander too, appeared quite uninterested in the goings on within the command pit, though not the slightest detail, slipped by his awareness.

The Sith continued his slow trek to the line of oversized viewports that curved around the head of the bridge. There, standing imposingly tall, awaited a dark figure, outlined by a sea of stars. It was the Master of all Sith, and right hand to the emperor himself...Lord Vader.

Vader stood motionless as he faced the windows, wearing all black, his hands firmly clasped to his belt. His long cape flowed along his back, following the contours of his wide arms and elbows as they jutted outwards. The commander did not slow, or hesitate in any way in his advance towards Vader; but he did take the time, as he always did for some reason, to note the cowl-like form to Lord Vader's headpiece, meant to mimic robes like his own, but designed with a different purpose in mind. Even from this distance, the commander could hear the rhythmic sounds of Vader's respirator unit, breathing _in_ …and _out_ , keeping his master alive. On any other, such an apparatus would tend to serve as a sign of weakness. On Vader, however, it only seemed to amplify the lethality of his presence. Only a fool would underestimate him.

As the commander neared, he was struck with an almost overwhelming sense of foreboding. He wasn't afraid of Vader, per say, though was fully cognizant of the terrible power his master held. Seemingly without peer. Even the Emperor's abilities paled in comparison to Lord Vader's. No, the commander's unease came from elsewhere, elusive. It was a feeling he had. Something was wrong, but what, he couldn't quite place.

The lone Sith found himself longing now more than ever, for the voices in his head to return. Other's might consider them a plague, or a curse. But he had come to think of them as his companions. At times, even confidants. He had to be careful though, as the voices often compelled him to do things, things unreasonable, sometimes…unnatural. They often goaded him. Occasionally guided him. And in the rarest of times, even taught him. But they were constantly trying to bend his actions towards their will. For him to do their bidding. He knew that if he were ever to truly give in to temptation, to free his restraint, there would be no turning back, and all would suffer. So, he resisted…always. But it had been so long since he'd heard them. He wished for their council now.

Lord Vader remained still as his apprentice neared. He could sense his pupil's discomfort. Once the commander took his place by his side, the dark lord of the Sith allowed a moment of silence to pass before speaking, though he never removed his gaze from the stars.

"The Federation vessel has disappeared from our scanners." Vader announced.

"I know." The Sith-Commander replied softly, his own features still concealed behind his heavy hood. "I can no longer sense her, my master." He said.

"Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment." Vader replied. "Your concern is, unwarranted. She has not been harmed." Darth Vader said as he turned his head slightly towards his apprentice. The sharp, unnatural angles of his shiny black mask, glistened in the starlight. "She has chosen her path. Just as you have chosen yours."

"She believes to be on the side of good." The commander said whimsically, as he too stared out into the void of space.

Vader turned fully around, facing the commander. He shook his fist and pointing his gloved finger at the man, dressing him down on his own ship.

"She is part of the Rebel Alliance, and a traitor!" He scowled. "She must be destroyed!" Vader barked before softening his voice… "You know it to be true…" He turned back to the window…

"Son…"

At that, the commander pulled his arms from his sleeves. He reached up with both hands, one human, one machine, and removed the hood from his head, revealing a youthful face and a mane of thick, sandy-blonde hair. With the dark blue-in-blue eyes of a full Sith-Lord, Luke Skywalker glared at his father. He knew what he had to do. What he was supposed to do. But he did not want to do it. He pleaded for the voices to return. For their guidance. But he was lost to them, and he knew that now.

"Order the Fleet out of Romulan space, and into the Neutral Zone." Vader commanded. "Were going after them…Commander! There will be no one to stop us, this time!"

"Yes, my master." Young Skywalker said in a somber, defeated tone. He lowered his head once more, and began a slow retreat down the command walkway, away from his…father.

Vader turned his back on his son. In his mind, he said…

 _Soon, we will have what the Emperor desires. Soon we will crush the rebellion, then the Emperor. Soon we will rule the galaxy…as father and son!_

The commander stopped midway across the catwalk. He looked up, but not to Vader. With a heavy heart, he replied with his thoughts…

 _Yes, father._

Afterwards, Luke resumed his idle journey though the darkness of the command level. His sister was gone from him. The voices had abandoned him. He hated his father, almost as much as he hated himself. He walked alone. As alone as any being in the universe had ever been.

He wished only for the reprieve of death. Somehow however, he knew, even that would not free him…

End of Episode two…


	14. Ep 3 Chapter 1

Episode Three:

Beware the Shadows and the Forgotten Foe

1

Captain's Log: Supplemental.

 _It's been nearly four hours since the Enterprise was pulled inside the giant Dysons Sphere against its will. All attempts at escape have thus far proved, futile._

 _To make matters worse, in our efforts to resist the Sphere's powerful tractor beam, our engines, already taxed to their limit due to the stress we've put on them of late, were severely damaged. Lt. LeForge and his team are making every effort to affect repairs, but ultimately, they fear the damage will prove irreparable. Regretfully, with only maneuvering thrusters at our disposal, we find ourselves locked on a course that takes us directly to the center of what I once considered a marvel. Now I can only think of it, as a monstrosity._

 _In the meantime, to help maintain minimal power levels, and since his ship is still docked with ours, Captain Solo has graciously agreed to supply the Enterprise with emergency power._

 _I've called for a conference with the senior staff, and have invited the crew of the Millennium Falcon to join us._

….

With little haste, Captain Picard entered the conference room located behind the main bridge. Riker followed close behind. Picard paused at the head of the slightly curved, glossy-black conference table, placing his hands on the back of his chair while commander Riker took the seat directly to his left. Further down the table on the captain's left, sat Counselor Troi, followed by Lt. Worf, and Lt. Commander LeForge. Dr. Crusher sat at the opposite end of the table. To his right, Picard noticed that Data, who often occupied that seat, had surrendered his spot to Princess Leia, who now sat directly across from his own first officer. Data himself seemed perfectly content sitting between the young royal, and a slightly temperamental looking Wookie, who Picard understood was the first mate of the Millennium Falcon. At the far end, next to his navigator, sat Han Solo. Picard nodded a gesture of appreciation to his fellow captain, and for Solo's help in their time of need. Solo returned the nod, but the two exchanged no words.

Before taking his own seat at the head of the table, Captain Picard looked out one of the series of windows that lined the cabin's exterior wall. He lamented at the total absence he saw there. The normal vista of stellar beauty, painted by the brush of the universe on a canvas of light and energy, where replaced now by a picture of absolute emptiness, a disturbing void of oblivion. It was as though someone had draped a pitch-black curtain just beyond the window, concealing the truth of the cosmos from him. It was troubling, and slightly disorientating to look at. There was nothing inside the Sphere. No planets. No star. No occupants of any kind. Picard felt like they had transitioned into a different realm entirely. A parallel universe held locked within the confines of the sphere, where life itself did not exist…Hell itself.

He sighed to himself, before looking back to the group.

"Well," he began, "we all know why we are here." Picard took his seat. Before continuing, he rapidly tugged twice on his uniform, smoothing out the wrinkles of his red tunic before resting in his chair completely. "Before we begin, I would like to thank our guests, Captain Solo and, and…" Picard faltered when he realized he did not know the Wookie's name. When it became clear that neither Solo, nor the Wookie, had any intention of suppling him with the name, he continued, barely missing a beat. "…And his first officer for allocating us power from their ship."

"No trouble at all." Captain Solo said as he leaned back in his seat, cocked to a side. "Our only regret is that we can't provide you with your usual…comforts." Han smiled widely, flippantly. "Your crew might have to go to bed tonight without their baths." He spread his arms slightly. "But don't worry, I'm sure Chewy and I can tuck you in, and read you a bedtime story." Han let out a control laugh as he looked to Chewy, who also chuckled and growled heavily, pleased with his captain's lighthearted stab at the crew of the Enterprise, and at the generalization that Starfleet officers enjoyed comparatively soft lifestyles. The pair then looked to Leia, who shot them a glance so intense, that it made the Han's smile evaporate instantly, though Chewy's remained. Han did his best to look suddenly preoccupied by a small, and totally imagined, imperfection in the tabletop. Leia turned back to the captain.

"It is our pleasure to help, Captain." The princess said through her teeth, trying to ease the tension. But on the inside, she was laughing along with Han's joke. Picard smiled tightly, and nodded before moving on, addressing his main engineer.

"Geordie." He asked, his tone laced with wishful curiosity. "What's our status?"

"The leads are completely fried sir." Lt. LeForge said as he looked about the room. "We've managed to stabilize the core, but the Dilithium chamber, and the crystals themselves, are heavily deteriorated. I should have minimum impulse within a few hours, but were looking at a complete overhaul. Maybe even a total core replacement." Geordie looked at the Captain. "I'm sorry sir. There's really nothing more we can do from out here."

"Then our weapons should be the priority." Worf interjected himself. "Both phazers and photon torpedoes are offline!" He leaned forward in his chair. "We will be no match, should the Imperial ships decide to engage us in battle. We are defenseless, and with the BattleStar group still several days out..."

"Raarghh-Awwrk-wha-rughh." Chewbacca hollered an instinctive, though quite innocent challenge towards the Klingon. The Wookie of course, expected no one in the room to understand, except for Han.

"You said it, Pal." Han couldn't help but to join in on the fun.

"Perhaps you would like to find out?" Worf replied with a smile of his own, surprising the two with his understanding of the Wookie language.

Both Han and Chewy sat up slightly in their chairs as Worf sneered at the wookie. Neither of them appeared willing to back down from the challenge.

Commander Data, who also understood the wookie's native tongue, innocently exchanged looks between the mighty Chewbacca and the opposing Lt. Worf. In an attempt to defuse the brewing conflict, Data threw himself into the conversation.

"Captain," Data began earnestly. "I believe I now have enough evidence to postulate a theory as to what the sphere is." He said, successfully dragging the rooms attention on him, and away from Lt. Worf and the Wookie. Captain Picard swung his chair towards Data, somewhat thankful for his second officer's interruption.

"Go on, Data." He said.

"As you know, our scanners where unable to penetrate the sphere's outer shell. But that is no longer a hindrance, now that we've been pulled inside." Data looked about the room before continuing. "An integral part of Dr. Dyson's theory requires a civilization to be living within the confines of the sphere, and a star for that civilization to draw power from. Otherwise, there would be little point for such a monumental undertaking." Data raised his eyebrows up. "Neither of those requirements are met here."

"Then what do you think it is, Data?" Riker asked sincerely.

"I believe the sphere is someone's attempt to construct an artificial…singularity." Data said.

"A black hole?" The captain asked aloud.

"Not exactly captain." Data replied. "A black hole, as it is so called, is only the effect a natural singularity has on the surrounding spacetime." Data continued, all eyes on him. "It is my belief, that whomever was responsible for the Sphere's construction was attempting to create a true, naked singularity."

"A naked singularity." Geordie interrupted, his curiosity peeked. "Data, are you saying the outer sphere is like the event horizon? With a…constructed singularity at its center?"

"No Geordie." Data replied. "If the theory holds, then the sphere _is_ the singularity, and we are, at this very moment, inside it."

"Then what's at the center?" The princess asked.

"I believe we will find that out soon enough, your highness." Data responded to the princess' query.

"But what would be the purpose for such an undertaking?" Picard had to ask the question.

"Uncertain without more evidence." Data responded. "But one could surmise that such a construction could serve as a sort of, _nexus point_ in space. One that might allow for the near instantaneous travel to virtually anywhere in the Galaxy."

"The spice!" Leia added.

"Precisely princess." Data confirmed, slightly impressed. "The unique intra-spatial properties of the substance known as Mélange, would be required for such a device. Preferably, in its most concentrated form."

"The strategic advantage of such a gateway, would be significant." Worf said. "One could simply transport an entire fleet within enemy territory, behind their defensive lines. Conquest would be virtually assured."

Worf sat back in his chair, his hands held together at the fingertips. He was pleased with himself, and his tactical observation. No one challenged his obvious assessment. Some may have even wondered what advantage such a device would offer them. A rather, uncomfortable silence, fell over the room.

Suddenly, a hail came over the ship's intercom system, breaking the silence.

"Bridge to captain Picard." The voice of the young Ensign Crusher bled through the coms.

"Picard here." The captain replied, happy for the distraction.

"Captain. We are approaching the coordinates Commander Data projected to be the center of the Sphere."

"We're on our way." The captain said.

….

Commander Data was the first to enter the bridge via the aft compartment that led back to the conference room. He was quickly followed by Lt. Worf, Commander Riker, Troi, and Captain Picard. Han and Leia came through last. Chewy had gone back to the Falcon to watch over the power transfer to the Enterprise. And, should there be any problems, was accompanied by Lt. LeForge. Dr. Crusher had gone back to medical.

Worf took his position at tactical behind the curved wood-grained arch that wrapped itself around the bridge's three command seats. Princess Leia and Captain Solo stood next to the Klingon, trying their best to stay out of the way. Data made his way to his ops, while Commander Riker and Captain Picard both took their place, and stood eagerly, at the center of the bridge. Troi took her seat to the left of the Captain's chair.

The mood on the bridge was electric. All eyes watched the viewscreen, anxiously waiting for something to appear from the nothingness that surrounded the enterprise. Peering into that emptiness, Picard squinted at the viewscreen. When nothing jumped out at him, his face grimaced in a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

"Helm," Picard said, "What are we looking at?" He asked, still squinting.

"I don't know sir." Wesley said, clearly vexed by the situation. "But there is something there."

"Anything Data?" Riker asked.

"Sensors are detecting an object dead ahead." Data offered. "But they are having difficulty locking on. Whatever it is, it appears to be made of the same absorbent material that comprised the sphere's outer shell."

Picard took a step away from Riker, positioning himself closer to the main viewer. "Mr. Worf," he said, "launch a few class 2 optical probes. Let's see what's out there…"

"Aye sir." Worf obeyed.

At that, the Enterprise fired four small probes from her torpedo bay, disturbing the otherwise dead silence of the sphere's interior. The probes streaked through the void, echoing through the darkness. When they reached a certain distance away from the ship, all four exploded into a shower of white-hot light, igniting their phosphorescent cores. Like four tiny, man-made stars, they lit up the surrounding area.

All eyes on the bridge went wide when they saw what the probes illuminated! A planetoid, barely a wisp away from the ship! And they were on a collision course!

"Helm!" The captain shouted. "Hard about! Bring us around at two-one-four!"

Wesley heard the order, but was he clearly struggling to maintain control with only maneuvering thrusters at his disposal. "Forward thrusters already at full, Captain!" Wesley cried as he feverishly batted commands into his console.

"It's gravity is pulling us down!" Commander Riker barked. "All hands brace for impact!" He bellowed over the ships coms, hoping only that he'd given the warning in time. His blue eyes locked on viewer, and on the small planetoid the ship was barreling towards. He had to place his hand on Wesley's chairback to steady himself, as his orientation shifted suddenly from flying, to falling. He knew they had only seconds. "What is it? He yelled aloud, almost wistfully, intently studying the oddly artificial stellar body they were falling into.

The size of the planetoid was difficult for Riker to estimate with any precision, both with the complete lack of time he had to examine it, and because their probes, as bright as they were, were still only able to illuminate a small fraction of the objects entirety. Still, he felt that it had to be at the very least, several thousand times larger than the Enterprise itself. However, it was clear that the thing being a naturally developed object, accreted over billions of years, was beginning to become suspect. It was certainly spherical, and somewhat reminiscent to the enormous Dysons Sphere they had been forced inside. But there were obvious differences. It was lighter in color. A more, cool-gray, than charcoal. It also had a deep trench that ran across its equator, presumably all the way around. It's lines, far too perfect to be anything but constructed. But the small moon's most obvious artificial feature was a huge dish-like impression on its norther hemisphere. Like the largest communications dish, Riker had ever seen.

Whatever it was, it did not look at all friendly to Commander Riker…And they were falling straight towards it!

"We need more power, Mr. LeForge!" The Captain cried out over the coms, pulling Riker from his wonderings on the object.

"We're giving it everything she has, captain!" LeForge shouted from the engineering section of the Millennium Falcon.

"Chewy!" Han screamed. "Lock in the auxiliary power!"

"Rawrgwawggrrh!" Chewbacca responded.

The tension on the bridge rose, as the crew began to panic. Each trying desperately to keep their composer, but all were fighting a losing battle. Commander Riker fought through his own fear and confusion. With firmness, he fully gripped the leather seatback of the helms station, and shouted orders to the young ensign.

"Wesley!" He said, all his confidence returning. "Cut all the power to the forward thrusters. Bring the ship down at _thirty-seven_ degrees. Just before we hit, put everything you have in the rear thrusters. Use the _moon's_ gravity, to slingshot us into orbit!"

Though he was scared, and not at all convinced the commander's idea would work, the young Ensign Crusher obeyed without hesitation. The orientation of the huge object began to shift in the viewscreen, rotating as the Enterprise altered course.

The Enterprise continued to dive towards the moon's surface, which appeared to be completely covered with man-made structures, buildings, and spires. Not an inch of nature shown through. The Enterprise continued it's decent. Just before slamming into the surface, Wesley initiated the maneuvering thrusters, just enough to angle the ship up, and skim the surface. They underbelly of the Enterprise flew only meters above the tops of the short buildings the barely jutted above the ground. And they were still falling!

Following the Commander's instructions, just before impact, the young helmsman slammed his palm down onto his console, igniting the ships rears thrusters, and rocketed them up and away from the surface. The maneuver worked better than any had expected. And all breathed a deep sigh of relief when they realized they were out of immediate danger.

As their altitude increased, Data oriented the main viewer to give them a better look of the object. Princess Leia let go of the death-grip she had held on the wood-grained arch at the rear of the bridge, and left Captain Solo's side. Han watched as she made her way to the center of the bridge for a better look. She gazed out at the object in wonderment…and terror!

"That's no moon…" The princess said. "It's a space station." She whispered the revelation. None argued the truth in the statement.

The captain looked back at the Princess, his face as stern as ever. He tried to convey reassurance in his expression, but was uncertain if he was succeeding.

"Regardless of what it is, your highness," Picard said, "we're alive." He turned back to the main viewer and spoke under his breath. "For now." He whispered. He turned to his first officer. The two exchanged nods, letting the other know that they were each all right.

"Now what?" Riker asked.

The captain's face stiffened. He was done standing by idly. Done sitting and waiting for answers to come his way. Part of being a good captain, was to know when it was time for such things, and when it was time to act. And now was that time.

"Now we find out what's really going on here." Picard said with assurance. He turned back to the viewscreen, staring _death_ at the artificial _star._ He addressed his first officer, without looking at him. "Assemble your away team, Commander."

Riker looked at the captain with a stern but serious expression. He inhaled, then nodded his acknowledgment of his orders. In quick succession, he pointed to the ops, and tactical stations. "Data. Worf. You're with me." He said as he quickly made his way to the rear turbo lift. Both officers followed without complaint or hesitation of any kind.

"I'm going too." Princess Leia said. Everyone on the bridge froze in their place at the princess' emphatic statement.

"Like hell you are." Han said.

"I have to go." She said to him softly. "We need to know what's going on here." She looked at Han with pure sincerity bleeding from her eyes. "I need to know." She pleaded with him.

Han shared a look of understanding with Leia, but not of acceptance. There was no way he was going to allow her to go.

"I'll go." He said with finality. The princess was about to argue, but before she could utter a single word, Han had already made his way to the turbo lift. When inside, he turned and looked back at the princess. He smiled a small smile at Leia. A look that said a thousand words…and nothing at all.

"I'll be going too, Captain." Troi said as she stood from her seat. Her posture as regal as ever.

"Counselor?" The captain asked in confusion.

He was about to protest, but the look of sternness on Troi's face said all that needed to be said. The captain acquiesced, before nodding his allowance for the request that was not a request. Troi returned the nod, then glided her way to the turbo lift. When she had fully entered, the doors hissed themselves shut, and the lift, and all its occupants, zoomed away.

Picard looked back to the viewscreen, and once again examined the alien object the ship now orbited. He was shocked to find himself suddenly pleading to the universe for his crew's safety.

"Good luck…

… And may the force be with you." He whispered.


	15. Ep 3: Chapter 2

2

Pain stung at Paul's heart as he stared down at the lifeless bodies littering the floor of the darkened cargo bay. He didn't fully understand the connection he shared with the fallen worms, and in that moment, it didn't seem to matter. To Paul, the loss was real enough.

It was an emotion he was all too familiar with. He felt it when he lost his parents, Leto and Jessica. He knew it when his sister, Alia, was taken from him. And he felt it now, at the loss of these strange animals, as far removed from human, as a species could get. Paul wondered what that said about him.

For Paul, emotional connections had always been difficult. Even before the loss of his family, he felt like outcast, an observer of normal society, not a member. After all, his only real friend he'd ever had was Duncan. And if Paul was being honest with himself, that relationship had always been more of a teacher/student association, than an actual friendship. Not to mention the fact that at the end, the professor had tried to kill Paul, though to his credit, Duncan had already been…altered, was the word Paul decided upon. The mentor Paul knew in Idaho, had been lost to those cybernetic monsters he'd faced in the factory, forever.

Paul knelt, as though in reverence, reaching out his hand, and stroking the callused skin of the nearest worm. He closed his eyes, allowing himself no distraction from the feel of the creature's ringed segments. Paul held back a tear. He'd been with them for so long, and now that they were gone, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. _Were these things,_ _the only family I had left?_ He thought to himself as he stood. With eyes still closed, Paul shook his head.

His thoughts of late had been fixated on the crew of this fantastical ship. It was, after all, the worms that had brought them to him. _Was there meaning in that?_ He thought as he opened his eyes. He wanted to know these people better, to understand them. The vision he'd had while in the trance had revealed their past to him, their hardships, but not who they were, not what they were. He needed to know what they were capable of. He needed to know how far they'd come. Where they the combative humans of old, or something…more. He'd conceded that he would have to resolve this issue on his own.

Paul understood what it was for someone to be evil. He'd lived with it for years in the form of his maternal grandfather, Vladimir Harkonnen. Though Paul himself never suffered the wrath of his grandfather's infamous anger, nor had to entertain Vladimir's more…taboo interests, he knew what the man really was, what he hid behind his thin veneer of righteousness and piety. Paul knew the darkness within his grandfather, and learned to avoid it. At his first opportunity, Paul left the clutches of his grandfather, never to return.

But Paul also knew what it was to be good. His sister, his parents, even the impeccable morality of Professor Idaho, had all been shining examples of decency in Paul's life. Within him, Paul knew, was the necessary metric to judge the light from the dark. And he knew he had to judge these people now.

To that end, Paul thought hard on the experiences he'd had thus far in dealing with them. The captain had imprisoned him, that was true enough, but it wasn't out of anger, or reciprocity for what Paul had done to the three security officers in the sick-bay. It was out of fear, and an obvious desire to avoid further conflict. Paul felt no sense of personal danger while in the brig. There was no threat to his safety. They didn't want to hurt him. _But were they all so, diplomatic?_ He thought.

And what of his interrogators. The beautiful Counselor Troi, and the android, Lt. Commander Data. Counselor Troi no doubt held considerable power. One that might even pose a risk to Paul. And she had given him pain. But when he was at his weakest, she relented. _Did she feel empathy for him?_

And Data? Paul may not have a full grasp of what it was to be an artificially constructed being, but he knew Data was alive, and that the commander clearly meant no ill will towards Paul. And there was something else. More than Troi, or the Captain, Paul felt a definite, commonality, between himself and this lone android. He knew what it meant to be different that everyone else, but forced to coexist with them. Paul wondered if he had somehow managed to find in this unexpected future, what he'd never found in his own time. _A friend?_

Still standing above the worm, Paul twisted his head dramatically to the left, focusing on the far end of the cargo bay. There, illuminated by the compartments only significant source of light, was a small, gun-metal gray, workbench. Looking closer, Paul could see a small protrusion jutting up from the cold metal surface of the workbench's tabletop, a soda-can-sized glass vile in its center. The glass vessel was further encased within a second metal container, with opened sides. Paul instantly knew what was inside the glass vile. It was the very liquid he'd ingested back at the laboratory, so many centuries before.

Instinctively, Paul left the worm, and slowly made his way over to the workbench. He moved with careful precision, as though any sudden movement would somehow wake the giant beasts from their slumber.

As he quietly walked across the cargo bay, thoughts of the crew and their worthiness continued to run through his mind. These people still fought. They were still divisive. They still went to war to over petty things like territorial lines, societal misunderstandings, and tribal differences. In that aspect, little had changed to the injustices that occurred in Paul's time. Conflicts across continents had only been expanded to wars across the stars. To Paul, the difference was little more than semantics. The meaning was the same.

 _Did these people deserve salvation?_ Paul wondered. _Did anyone?_

No answers came to Paul as he completed his trek across the room. He decided to abandon the exercise of the time being. As he came closer to the workbench, he could feel the crackle of electricity from the field of energy that surrounded the container, but he didn't veer away. Instead, Paul leaned towards the field, and the vial, pressing his palms down hard on the tabletop. He glared at the liquid for a moment, before looking down at the small glossy-black keypad directly below the protrusion that held the container. He paused for only a moment to examine the buttons on the keypad. The odd, backlite, touch sensitive, command keys had almost no distinction between them, other than some keys being colored in a slightly different shade of white or yellow. With no further hesitation, Paul hurriedly imputed the code to deactivate the forcefield into the console, the very code provided to him by his rather, impressionable, guard, back in the brig.

At the very instant he'd imputed the last command, the energy field surrounding the container began to fluctuate wildly. An instant later, the barrier collapsed entirely. Paul straightened, then reached his hand out, grabbing the container in one swift motion. On contact with the cold glass, the memories of his prescient vision came flooding back to him. With absolute clarity, Paul could recall every nuance of time, every event of the last millennium, and a half, the life and death of every individual, everywhere. But he could see no further. His stereoscopic vision of time and space had become, two-dimensional. As quickly as it came to him, the vison left. Paul found himself having to fight the urge to pry open the container with his bare hands, and gulp down its contents to regain his abilities. But he knew that would do him no good. He needed answers. He needed to know how he had come to this place, and who had brought him here. Who took him from the factory? Who placed him in orbit around the giant sphere? Paul had no doubt that the answers to these questions, and countless others, could be found within the very thing he held in his hand. But that was not the way.

 _Sometimes the answers mattered less, than the road one takes to find them_ , Paul thought as he lowered the container.

Lest he lose his will to resist, Paul quickly shoved the container inside a rucksack he'd taken from the guard back at his cell. He slid his arms through the satchel's thin straps, securing the pack to his back. Before leaving the bay, Paul turned back to the bodies on the floor. He found himself suddenly stricken by another memory. The room in the factory where he'd first encounter the worms, hanging like cow cadavers in a meat locker. The cargo bay, dimly lit and smoke-filled, looked so like that room now. He could almost see the worms move. In the shadows, he was sure he'd caught a glimpse of cybernetic creatures creeping towards him. Just like that night. Paul blinked. Suddenly his friend, Duncan Idaho, was standing right in front of him, clear as day. With no words, the ghostly apparition that resembled Idaho reached out to Paul with his clawed mechanical arm. Not in a threatening way though, more…welcoming? As though Duncan was inviting Paul to come home. Paul was surprised to find his own hand reaching out to Duncan's. When he realized what he was doing, Paul snatched his hand back. In a flash, Duncan, the Borg, and the living worms were gone. Paul stood frozen, his eyes locked to the shadows. When he realized that he hadn't taken a breath in some time, he inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, and did his best to clear his head. When he found himself more centered, he opened them again, gazing upon a room filled with the rotting corpses of the dead worms, each body covered with a thick layer of translucent plastic. He was alone.

 _What did it all mean?_ Paul wondered. The Worms. The Borg. The Federation, and the Empire? What where they all moving towards? What lay beyond the horizon?

Paul stiffened his body and clinched his fists. He inhaled deeply through his nose, breathing new life into his staling lungs. He knew what he had to do. With no further hesitation, Paul bolted towards the door. The time for waiting was over. He'd slept long enough.

Now, the sleeper had truly awakened.


	16. Ep 3: Chapter 3

3

"We are approaching the artificial Planetoid, sir." Data announced from the controls of the Runabout-class shuttle, _Yangtzee Kiang_.

"Bring us about, Data. And Put us into orbit over its equator." Commander Riker said, as he made his way up from the rear of the command compartment. "The Enterprise said they detected several openings within the trench that wraps around the station. Large enough for us to dock inside."

"Aye, sir." Data acknowledged, as Riker took the pilot's seat next to his own.

Data entered in the coordinates, and the ship responded by altering its course. The rest of the away team came up from the rear compartment. Troi, still dressed in her skin-tight red single-suit, cut low around the neckline, took the seat at the terminal behind and to the left of Commander Riker. Worf sat at the station behind, and to the right, of Data. Both officers twisted and pulled their seats closer to the center of the cabin, for a better view.

Captain Solo then, was left without a seat. But instead of putting on a show of distain at the Federation crew, Han casually placed his hand on the compartment's low ceiling, and put on a show of satisfaction with having to stand. He focused on the viewport, while attempting to look as natural as possible.

"There!" He said, with a little too much enthusiasm, pointing towards a set of four large openings on the floor of the deep trench.

Worf turned to Captain Solo, giving the man a look that seemed to say little more than… _no kidding_. But Han Solo, not one to relent to feelings of embarrassment, simply smirked at the Klingon out of the corner of his mouth, before returning his gaze to the massive object that hovered just beyond the small spacecraft.

"Very good, Captain Solo." Data said sincerely, observing Han's contribution to their adventure.

After a moment of silence, Commander Riker imputed the new coordinates to the openings inside the trench, and the ship began its approach. Soon after, as they station began to occupy more and more of the cockpit window, its true enormity became, unavoidable. Its size, disorientating. The closer they came, the more detail they could make out. It truly was an artificially constructed planet, built from the inside, out. Its surface looked to be completely covered with small two, or three, level structures, short turrets, and taller spires. Sporadic and irregular bits of detail made up the rest of the surface. Almost as if the station's builders, after its completion, were left with thousands of extra parts. Rather than discarding the random pieces, they decided to fill in the voids between buildings with the scree of their creation.

From his pilot's seat, Commander Riker looked forward, seeing the four openings on the trench floor. Each where different in size, but were all rectangular in shape. All four were also clearly large enough to accommodate the runabout, so the commander chose the one that looked the most, appropriate, for their mid-range craft. When the ship came within a few hundred meters, Riker slowed the runabout's forward velocity to one/quarter impulse. "Taking us in." He announced, as the runabout descended and entered the trench, slicing through the shadow cast by the four optical probes launched by the Enterprise, each still burning through their phosphorescent cores.

Like the surface, the inside of the trench was pot-marked by a near endless array of random bits of detail, covering the walls and floor of the artificial canyon in a veneer of complexity. The trench made it feel as though the huge station were enveloping the small runabout. As though they were not so much docking with yet another spacecraft, regardless of size, but flying into the maw of a gigantic beast, swallowing them whole. Commander Riker, found this thought, unnerving, and looked away from the enormous station to his fellow passengers, hoping to find solace there. He was met only with stunned looks of awe and fear. It did nothing to calm him, so instead, he turned back around and refocused his efforts on docking the ship.

The runabout entered the mid-sized opening, chosen by the commander. They entered a large docking bay with smooth grey walls, and a glossy black metal floor. Within the floor, offset to a side, was a deep shaft, like a cargo lift. From the darkness of the docking bay, the hole appeared bottomless. Other than that, the docking bay looked rather standard. Riker found himself shocked that, within this technological terror, they would find a rather dull looking landing bay. They could almost be docking with one of the larger Federation, Deep Space stations. And that, was the thought that finally calmed him. Riker gracefully tapped a few more commands into his console, and the ship rotated 180 degrees, placing it nose-first towards the entrance. He tapped once, and the shuttle began its decent. The landing was near perfect, with the other passengers feeling almost nothing as the runabout's two outboard warp nacelles touched down on the shiny metal floor of the docking bay. When they did, all the lights of the bay came to life at once, casting the bay in a sea of brilliance. Outlining the opening they'd just come through, a rectangular ring of white-hot light, ignited to life, signifying that the forcefield of the entrance/egress portal, was now active, and now holding back the deadly vacuum of space.

"Data?" Riker asked in wonderment. The android looked down at his console anticipating the Commander's question.

"The bay is pressurizing, commander." Data said, as though surprised. "Temperature, and gravity both approaching Earth norms." Data looked up to the commander, but quickly returned his gaze to the forward viewport.

"An automated response?" Riker asked. "from our landing?"

"Unknown sir." Data replied. He meant to continue, but the exchange was abruptly ended by a ship to ship hail.

"Enterprise to Away team." Captain Picard said from the bridge of the Enterprise.

"Riker here, captain."

"Report, number one."

"We've just landed, sir. The docking bay's forcefield and lights just activated, apparently on their own. But other than that, we've seen no indication of life." Riker reported over the coms.

"Understood." Picard replied. "Take all necessary precautions, away team. And leave an open com-channel. I want to hear everything that happens. We need answers, commander."

"Understood, sir." Riker said. He turned back to the away team, and to Worf, in particular. "Mr. Worf, break out the weapons."

"Aye, sir." Worf responded with a glint in his eye.

The large Klingon immediately left his seat, and made his way to the rear of the compartment where the weapons locker was stored. Once there, he entered a short command into a small keypad embedded into the wall. A thin drawer extend itself from the wall next to the keypad, revealing five type B phazers, neatly stored within a protective gray foam cut precisely to the shape of the weapons it held. Worf pulled out the first too phazers, and tossed them in succession to Data and Commander Riker. Both officers checked the settings on their weapons, before placing them at their sides. Worf grabbed another phazer, and gently handed it off to Counselor Troi, who accepted the weapon only with hesitation, and a small show of reluctance. Once in her hand however, she too checked the weapon, as though it were part of her training, and placed the phazer at her hip in a similar fashion as the other two had. Worf then retrieved the final two phazers from the locker. He began handing one off to Captain Solo. Han simply held out an open palm, unsnapped the holster that held his own blaster at his hip, and freed the weapon, just slightly, with his opposite hand.

"No thanks." He said with a wry smile. "Got my own."

Worf rolled his eyes at the captain of the Millennium Falcon, set both remaining phazers to stun, and happily resigned to the fact that he would now possess two phazers, instead of just one. When ready, Lt. Worf looked to Commander Riker, and nodded. Riker returned the gesture, before addressing the rest of the away team.

"We have to move fast. We don't know how long communications will last with the Enterprise, or how long a range our coms might extend. And be careful. We have no idea what waiting for us out there…So stay close." Commander Riker ordered.

Each of the away team nodded their understanding of their orders, with the notable exception of Captain Solo. The other passengers turned to Solo, glaring daggers at the man, expecting him to follow suit. Han simply gave his Federation friends a characteristically sarcastic smile, and spread his arms towards his fellow team members.

"Hey…I'm trustworthy." Han said, grinning wildly.

Riker only shook his head before mentally kicking himself for allowing _this_ man to accompany them on their mission. _But better this scoundrel than the princess_ , Riker thought to himself. He would hate to imagine what might happen to relations between the Empire and the Federation, should the Enterprise be directly, or indirectly, responsible for the death of a royal member of the Imperial Senate. Riker turned to exit the craft, suddenly a little more thankful for Solo's company.

A little…

With Commander Riker in the lead, the away team made their way to the rear of the command section of the runabout, to the egress hatchway at the ship's side. Riker looked back at the rest, pausing for a moment to ensure everyone was at the ready, before depressing a small yellow button on yet another keypad, next to the hatchway. The door slid open, and the away team quickly began filing out, Riker still in the lead. There was no turning back now…

….

Captain Picard, paced nervously back and forth on the main bridge. He stopped mid pace between the ops and conn stations, turned and stared at the main viewer. He crossed his arms, and placed his right hand over his mouth. Princess Leia, who had been invited to sit next to the captain's chair, a seat normally occupied by Counselor Troi, shared in the captain's anxiety, and desire to see the return of the away team. Feeling her eyes on him, Picard turned around, seeing the princess staring back. The two shared looks of concern, and frustration. Picard's expression stiffened, as he turned back to the helm station.

"Time?" The Captain requested. Wesley looked down at his console.

"Twenty-three minutes, captain, since the away team boarded…" He paused and gazed at the main viewer, to the enormous artificial planetoid beyond. The young helmsman was not quite sure what to call it yet, so, he settled on. "That...thing."

Picard nodded, before addressing the away team over the open com-channel.

"Commander." He called out. "Status."

Back on the station, Riker stopped his advance down yet another corridor that seemed to go on forever. The rest of the away team quickly followed suit.

"Captain," Riker responded, "We've seen no signs of a crew, or any other inhabitants. The station's design seems, random and generalized. No bridge, no crew quarters, no engineering section that we've come across. Just endless corridors that lead nowhere." Riker angled his flashlight down one of the hallways he spoke of. The automatic lights that had so conveniently illuminated the docking bay, had not extended any further, casting the entire station it seemed, in near total darkness. The away team felt like they were wondering through an endless labyrinth, with no end in sight. Their nerves were becoming frayed. "This place is a tomb." Riker finished.

"Proceed with caution, number one." Picard replied over the coms.

"Aye, sir." Riker said, before signaling the rest to move forward.

The com-channel remained opened as they continued down the corridor. Overall, the hallway seemed to be about the same dimensions as one would find on any other starship. The passageways had clearly been designed for something at least roughly the size of a human. But even in the darkness, Riker and the rest of the away team could tell, this was anything but a standard Federation vessel.

The walls and ceiling were unfinished, with wires and conduits left exposed, often hanging from their supports. It was dark. The air was hot, and humid. The many passageways crisscrossed each other, intersecting in a frustratingly random way, making their journey that much more difficult to map. Dread threatened to consume all of them.

"There's opening up ahead." Riker said with nervous excitement. A change in scenery had become so unexpected, that any alteration from the new norm, would have been welcomed. The team carefully made their way into the new room. Like an opened chamber, one that did not quite extend up to a second level. It was equally as dark, and the team had just as much trouble making out any detail as they had in the previous passageway. Using his flashlight as a directional pointer, Riker motioned for the rest of the away team to fan out and search the large room. Riker and Data took the left, Worf and Troi the right. Han was left to his own devices, and was stuck creeping through the middle. He let slip out an annoyed expression, before advancing on the opened room, blaster drawn.

To Han, this new room looked nearly identical to the hallway they'd just exited. Stainless steel supports and rafters, unfinished walls, exposed conduits, and machinery, with no thought at all to aesthetics, or livability. It was then that Solo hit on just what it was they were exploring. They were in a giant machine! Everything they saw around them were merely pieces to that machine, all working together in unison. Whatever the station was, it was built for one purpose, and one intended design. Han wanted to share his revelation with the rest of the team, but before he could…

"Here!" Lt. Worf hollered, his voice echoing in the darkness. Solo jumped and nearly discharged his weapon in the Klingon's general direction.

"Are you crazy!" Han shouted. "Are you trying to get yourself shot!"

Purposefully ignoring Solo's rant, Worf continued to examine the thing that had caught his attention. He leaned in, and shown his light on the object as he spoke. "They appear to be, compartments of some kind." He said cautiously.

"There are more over here, commander." Data added. Riker advanced.

"What do you see, away team?" Picard said over the coms, noticing the sudden shift in activity.

"Difficult to say, captain." Data replied. "But it does appear that the walls are all lined with some sort of, alcoves."

"Alcoves?" Picard asked, clearly wanting clarification.

"Correct captain. Affixed to the rooms perimeter wall, there are a series of compartments clearly designed for one occupant, about one meter in width and length each. Approximately 2.3 meters tall. There is a line of them, but each alcove appears to be separate, unenclosed, individual structures."

Data approached one of the compartments for a better look. Overall, the alcoves where constructed of a basic open framework, with an armrest placed at just the right height for a standard humanoid body. Just above where the head would be, was a circular electrical discharge display. Sparks of eerie green plasma shot out from the center of the display, striking its perimeter. Data took a closer look at the armrest, discovering a complicated interface terminal, and a display showing green colored characters, in a language unknown to him. To Data however, the design, and intended purpose for the alcoves seemed obvious.

"Captain, I believe I know what the compartments are." He announced.

"Go ahead, Mr. Data." The captain replied.

"I believe they are intended as an interface console, and recharging station." Data said.

"Recharging what, Data?" Commander Riker asked.

"Uncertain without more evidence, sir." Data replied.

"Well whatever it is," Han interjected, "I don't think we want to be here when they come back."

"Over here." Counselor Troi announced to the rest of the party. Each turned to see what she had discovered.

Troi was standing directly in front of a large cylindrical protrusion that extended from the compartments floor, all the way to its ceiling. Its surface was completely smooth, and looked to be made a single piece of hardened steel. Its only detail was a clearly defined doorway at its center, making its intended purpose rather obvious to all. It was a lift. The away team slowly approached Troi, who stood directly in front of the lift that led to who knew where. Data held out his tricorder, scanning the shaft for possible destinations.

"Can you tell where it leads, Data?" Riker asked.

"I can indeed, sir." Data replied with a look of half surprise. "The shaft extends straight down, forty-five kilometers into the station's apparent center." Data said as he continued to read his tricorder. He punched a few more commands into the small gray device, before continuing. "Commander, I am also detecting the same power signature that led us here. Its signal is heavily amplified at this distance."

"The spice?" Princess Leia said over the coms.

"It would appear so, your highness." Data replied. "Captain. I believe we have located the station's power core."

Each member of the away team looked to Commander Data in total silence. All of them now knew what they had to do, but none were willing to be the first to voice it. All but Captain Solo, that was.

"I'm not going down there." Han said emphatically. "Walking blindly down some dark corridor is one thing. Walking into a trap. Now that's something else, entirely."

"For once," Lt. Worf said, "I agree with Captain Solo."

"Thank you." Han said, fawning appreciation.

"It would put us at a significant, tactical disadvantage." Worf barked, after Solo's unwelcomed interruption.

"We're already at a tactical disadvantage, Mr. Worf." Commander Riker sneered back at the chief security officer. "The Enterprise is on emergency backup power. Basically defenseless. Getting to the core, might be our only way out the sphere." Riker stated with authority.

Worf reluctantly nodded his agreement. Even Captain Solo put up no further resistance. The reality of the situation, overrode all their normal reasoning. There really was no choice in the matter. Riker turned back to the shaft, and addressed the captain over the coms.

"Permission to proceed, Captain." Commander Riker asked. After a long pause, the captain replied.

"Permission granted."

Each of the away team fell silent. Even Han seemed to have run out of flippant, out of place comments. In a line, standing in front of the elevator shaft that led straight into the bowels of the enormous station, each stood, readying themselves for the inevitable. After a moment, Commander Riker gave Data a nod, signaling his android counterpart to activate the lift. Data returned the nod, and began entering in a series of commands into his tricorder. Within seconds, the doorway imbedded into the shaft bifurcated itself, and slid violently open, revealing a stainless-steel platform at the very same level as the floor they were currently on. Commander Riker grimaced at what that could mean. _The lift's platform could have been waiting on any level, but it just happened to be waiting on ours,_ he thought. He instantly pushed the thoughts aside however, as they would no longer do him any good. They were going now, no matter what they found.

Data carefully stepped onto the platform, foot first, as though checking its stability. His readings told him that the lift was magnetically levitated and propelled, but he didn't see the need to share this seemingly unimportant information with the rest of the team. He stepped fully onto the platform, looking back at the rest. Riker soon followed, then Worf, and Counselor Troi. Han paused at the opening for a moment, and holstered his blaster. He hadn't even realized that he was still holding it. He sighed, and let out the air from his lungs.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." He said, before he too, reluctantly joined the rest.

"Commander." Data said. "It is worth noting that at a certain depth within the planetoid, the sheer mass of refined material will most likely block all communications with the ship."

"Great." The commander said as the doors to the lift shut closed. The lift began its decent at a rather uncomfortably rapid pace. They had made their choice, and there was no going back. No matter how much they wanted to.

….

Back on the bridge of the Enterprise, Picard had resumed his nervous pacing. He did not stop as he tried, for the third time, to reach his away team. "Bridge to away team?" He called out in vain. "Away team, come in! Away tea…" Picard stopped himself, midsentence, and instead called out for Lt. LeForge on the Millennium Falcon. "Geordie!" He shouted.

"LeForge here, captain." Geordie replied hastily from the engineering section of the Falcon.

"Georgie, we've lost all contact with the Away team. I want you to try to boost the signal, any signal you can. We need to find out what's happening down there!" Picard ordered.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance." C-3PO said over the coms. "I am fluent in over six-million forms of communication."

"What…" Picard asked, already flustered. "What was that? What did you say, there?"

"Ah…nothing sir." LeForge fretted a reply, pushing 3PO away from the com-unit. "I'll…get right on it, sir."

"Very good, Lieutenant." Picard said before cutting off the coms.

"Captain!" The young female ensign that had taken Worf's station, shouted from tactical.

"What is it, Ensign Jae?" Picard said, twisting around and addressing the officer.

"Power signatures sir. Coming in at…312, mark 214!"

"Power signatures? What sort of power signatures?"

"Four of them sir…" The Ensign Jae paused. Her fingers danced across her display as she frantically read the readouts for a proper report. When the data finally returned, a look of pure dread plastered itself over her face. She hopelessly trying to speak. "SS…Sir…"

"Spit it out, ensign!" Ordered the captain.

"It's…It's the imperial ships, sir." She said in a daze. "All of them sir. Inside the sphere. Headed to intercept."

Picard heard the words, but found them difficult to believe. Somehow the four Imperial Star Destroyers had managed to traverse the same distance in four hours, that had taken the Enterprise four days to complete. He couldn't see how that was possible. But he supposed it didn't matter now.

He turned, and gazed out at the large planetoid outside the main viewscreen. He clinched his jaw. His words almost bled from his very soul…

"Battle stations!"


	17. Ep 3 Chapter 4

4

Captain Lorth Needa nervously approached Lord Vader's meditation chamber on board the Star Destroyer, _Avenger_. He hated the idea of disturbing his master while inside, but he had his orders. Vader had sequestered himself within the hexagonal shell of the chamber for the past several hours, somehow affecting the ships engines and allowing them to exceed their normal velocity by a significant degree. But it had come at a cost.

Needa had been ordered to the chamber once the ship had exited hyperspace and entered the mysterious, solar system sized, sphere the Federation ship had disappeared within. The idea was to slip into range of the Federation vessel without warning, taking them by surprise. But it hadn't worked. The ship had detected their approach in time to hide behind a large, artificial moon at the sphere's center. Captain Needa now had to explain to his Sith-Lord the reason for their failure. _But it wasn't my fault!_ Needa defended his actions to himself. And in truth, it hadn't been. The ship had come out of hyperspace at the correct time. He'd followed his orders to the letter. It was an absurd notion to believe they could somehow creep up on a Federation exploration vessel, fully equipped with sensors designed and evolved to combat the infamous Romulan cloaking device. Their detection was inevitable, just as the Federation's nearly assured defeat would be, once they engaged them. They stood no chance. Needa hoped that would be enough to save him. He stood as tall and stiff as he could, puffing up his chest in a ridiculous show of strength. Lord Vader might yet forgive his failure, if he could prove his continued worth, but Captain Needa knew, he would not forgive weakness.

The Captain jumped to a strong salute when the chamber began to split itself open. Like two fists clasped together, the upper part of the meditation chamber lifted, raising the upper fingerlike joints away from their opposing bottom ones. Needa took a step backwards, as a brownish-coppery haze of thick gas billowed out from the inside of the chamber, catching him completely by surprise. Needa threw his hand to his face, covering his mouth and nose once the powerful odor of the gas hit him. It was musty, earthy. Like cinnamon, only far stronger. He thought he might fall to his knees, and nearly did, before remembering that Vader awaited inside. At that thought, Needa quickly removed his hand, and stood his ground against the onslaught of noxious gas. The spice gas stung his eyes, but he forced them open, keeping them locked on the center of the chamber as the gas began to dissipate. A form began to appear. Dark. Ominous. It was his master. It was Lord Vader.

Vader's back was to Needa, his helmet was off. It was the first time Lorth had seen his master without his protective, life sustaining headpiece. Needa mired, half in curiosity, half in horror, at the heavily mutilated flesh of his master's skull. He watched as a mechanical arm lowered the familiar helmet into place. Needa wanted to look away, but dared not. He remained totally motionless, and did his best not to make a sound. When the helmet was secured, Vader stood from his seated dais at the center of the tiny mediation chamber, and stepped out through one of the openings. Needa did not wait for his master to exit fully, before speaking.

"Lord Vader." He forced the words out. "The Federation ship has hidden itself behind this artificial moon. We've lost the element of surprise. I take full responsibility, my Lord."

"Apology…accepted, Captain Needa." Vader said in a low, ominous voice. "Sneaking up on a Federation vessel was unlikely to succeed."

Lord Vader slowly made his way from his meditation chamber. The remnant spice gas, filled the room. Lorth foolishly let his body relax. As he did, he instantly felt a tightening around his neck, his feet slightly leaving the floor. "But do not mistake my forgiveness for a full reprieve, Captain." Vader said, holding out a clenched, opened fist. "Do not fail me again."

"Yesss…My, LLorrdd." Needa winced through the pain before Vader released him from his grip. The flats of his feet slammed themselves to the floor, but he did not fall. Lorth rubbed his throat, and inhaled deeply.

"What is our status, Captain." Lord Vader said, not granting his minion a moment to recover.

Needa gulped in air, knowing he would not be allowed another second to regain his breath. "As feared, my lord, our engines are taxed beyond repair…But our reserves are holding. Weapons and defensive capabilities are at full."

"And the fleet?" Vader asked.

"The same, Lord Vader." Needa returned, his breathing normalizing. "Damaged, but operational."

"What have your scans revealed about this small moon?" Vader asked inquisitively.

"It appears to be a totally constructed body sir, but our scanners are having difficulty penetrating its surface. We are detecting a power source, but its energy levels read at minimum. Not even enough to power the station's internal lighting." Captain Needa reported. "It looks to be a derelict sir."

"Not a derelict, Captain." Vader returned, pointing his finger at Needa. "At its heart, is a power you couldn't possible understand. It what the rebels are after. It's what she is after. Absolute power!"

"Then the Emperor will be pleased that we were able to secure him such a prize, my lord." Needa said, though somehow, he sensed that he shouldn't have.

"Indeed, he will Captain." Vader said as he turned away from his officer. "Indeed, he will."

"And the Federation vessel my, Lord? We are still detecting the Princess on board." Needa said. Vader turned his head, only slightly, and gave the captain a side long glance through the darkened glass of his helmet's eyepieces.

"Put the fleet into orbit around this…moon, and allow the Federation vessel to come to us. They cannot remain on the other side forever." Vader said as he began walking away from the captain, who remained still as stone. Just before Lord Vader exited the compartment, he paused, not looking back to the captain. "Destroy the ship, and all on board. The princess has made her final mistake."

Vader promptly left the room, his black cape billowing behind him. The captain finally relaxed once his master had left, a bit, before himself leaving the chamber, and making his own way back to the bridge. There were preparations to make.

And there was little time…

….

Princess Leia stood outside the Captain's ready room. She'd recently changed outfits, from her flowing, and slightly revealing, white robes, to a more comfortable white jumpsuit with light grey boots and insulated off-white vest. She'd redone her hair as well, now pulled back and braided into a crown that wrapped around the top and back of her head.

Leia paused for a moment before asking the captain for an audience, not really wanting to have the conversation. She felt a little like a child, waiting to tell its parent they'd done something wrong. Picard had that effect on her. His power and strength intimidated her, but also impressed her. All these people had. They were far from the backwoods humans of Old Earth they'd always been repudiated to be. They were sophisticated, civilized, and strong. Leia smiled when she pushed her mind's eye towards the future, seeing a possible alliance between these two peoples. But her smile vanished instantly. She knew that now was not the time for such foolish daydreams. She clinched her Jaw, reached her hand up, and pressed the small yellow call button on the keypad next to the door. Picard's voice instantly rang out.

"Come." He said, as the door hissed open.

Looking in, Leia saw the captain first. He was sitting preoccupied at his desk at the far end of the room, making no indication that he'd seen her. She entered anyway. The door remained opened as she stood in the threshold, examining the small room. She guessed it to be about ten meters long and wide, with a series of soft cloth panels, light rose-red in color, almost pink, lining the walls. The floor was heavily carpeted, hued in a slightly darker version of the same color as the walls. To her left was a small sofa, with a large painting just above it. The painting portrayed the Enterprise blasting its way across a background of stars and novae. At her right, a few paces away, was a model of yet another starship sitting atop a high pedestal. The starship looked to be of StarFleet design, with their characteristic saucers at the front, tailed by four warp engines. Further to her right, in the far corner, was a large circular fishbowl filled with many species of fish Leia could only guess where native to Earth. She found the idea of a fishbowl on a starship, rather odd.

Sitting at his desk, which was really just a glossy-black tabletop lined with heavily polished mahogany, the captain still seemed unaware of her presence. He was being briefed by one of his officers, Chief Engineer, LeForge, if memory served the princess. Leia blinked in amazement when she saw who sitting next to the LeForge. Chewbacca! She wasn't exactly sure how she'd managed to miss a seven-foot-tall wookie in a room this size, but she had. Her mind must be more preoccupied that she'd realized.

She took another step into the captain's office, prompting the door to slid shut behind her, and announcing her presence. All eyes went to the princess as each man, except for Chewy, began to stand…

"You're highness." The captain said in a regal tone and accent.

Leia smiled while she shook her hand, signaling the two men not to fuss. They both nodded, and stopped their attempt to stand halfway through. They retook their seats, and returned to their previous conversation. Time was at a premium now, and they all knew it.

"Captain, the Imperial ships have taken up a high orbit around the planetoid. They're waiting for us, sir." LeForge reported. "We'll be in range in less than seventeen minutes."

"At which point, the Star Destroyers will be free to advance on our position." The Captain added.

"A safe assumption, sir." Geordie replied. "Once in range, we estimate only three minutes before they launch their attack fighters." He sighed, and sat back in his seat. "It's not a lot of time."

"But it's all we have." Picard said. "Can you do it, Commander?"

"Aaarwahh-raw-roggh." Chewy answered in Geordie's place. Though none in the room understood his words, none missed their meaning. Both the Captain, and his Chief Engineer nodded their agreement.

"Make it so." The captain commanded.

The meeting apparently over, their unknown plan in place, all three stood. LeForge and Chewbacca began to make their way out of the small ready room, allowing the Princess her time with the Captain.

"You're highness." LeForge said as he walked past her to the door, which slid open at his approach. Leia gave the handsome young officer a polite bow of her head in return.

Chewbacca followed. He said nothing to Leia, but she was sure that he gave her a small smile. Leia reached up with her hand, and scratched the tall wookie at the base of his neck. He let out a low growl of appreciation. Leia smiled, and patted her hairy friend on the shoulder. The two locked eyes for a moment, before Chewy joined the commander, bending rather dramatically to fit through the tiny door. The door closed, leaving the Princess alone with Picard.

"Something I can do for you, Princess?" He asked. Leia turned to the man.

"I was hoping to speak with you privately, captain?" Leia said. Picard held out a hand to one of the two empty chairs at the other side of his desk. She chose the closest one, walked to it, and graciously sat. Picard too, took his seat. The Princess looked up to the man, pausing only for a moment to collect her words. "Captain." She began. "What are your intentions towards the artificial planetoid we are orbiting?"

"Intentions?" Picard said shockingly, surprised that her focus was on the station below, rather than the threat from the Imperial ships. "Your highness. May I remind you that there are four Imperial battle cruisers waiting on other side of this planetoid. And that _their_ intentions on us seem anything but…diplomatic. Our energy seems better spent worrying about them. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Captain, you can't allow yourself to be blinded by the threat you can see." She said with confidence. "The station is the true danger."

"Our landing party is investigating. We've been scanning the object since our arrival. We've seen no sign of life. No hint of danger." Picard said, his patience growing thin.

"But I have!" Leia said, almost pleading.

"How?" He demanded

"It's difficult to explain!"

"Try." Picard forced.

"Captain!" Leia shouted. "That thing must be destroyed! Before it destroys us!"

"Destroyed!" He said incredulously. "Princess, do you have any idea what you're asking? If you have some evidence to suggest that that object out there is some sort of threat, I'd be glad to entertain that. But I cannot subscribe to fancy or whim." He said sternly. "Do you have such evidence." He asked. The princess only shook her head in response. "Then how can you be sure! How do you know!"

"I just know!" She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Not good enough, dammit!" He shouted.

Picard clinched his jaw, and forced himself to relax. He let out a huff of air from his lungs as he laid the reddish-orange Isolinear chip he'd been examining, down onto his desktop. His demeanor shifting to one of calmness.

"Princess," he said, "you must begin to trust me."

Leia started at the man. The idea had never occurred to her. To trust him, or any other in the Federation. The notion was absurd, almost unheard of, but it seemed so obvious now that he'd said it. She had to trust him.

In that moment, Leia's doubts and fears about this man and his gallant crew vanished. She straightened in her seat. With no further hesitation, she lifted her right hand to her face. In one swift motion, using thumb and forefinger, she lifted her eyelids, and removed the two brown colored lenses from her eyes, revealing the deep blue-in-blue gems of a full Sith-Lord, gained from the spice agony she'd undergone before leaving her home world of Alderaan. Picard's jaw dropped, but only slightly. He stood from his chair, and walked a few paces to his right, to the narrow window just besides the large fishbowl. He couldn't believe it, but somehow, knew it all along. There, Picard stared out onto the vast space station, just outside the window. Leia allowed the man a moment, before speaking again…

"When I was a child," she began, "my adopted father liked to tell me stories. Would you like to hear one?" Picard remained silent and motionless. She took the man's silence as a pass to continue. "He like to tell me about the wonders of the Fremen; of Arrakis, and of the prophesized return of the Jedi." According to myth, when the Fremen left Old Earth they took with them a piece of their home world. Its life-blood. Its essence. Something more powerful, more concentrated…than anything you could possibly imagine."

"The water of life." Picard whispered, but did not take his eyes away from the window.

"The water of life." Leia nodded and confirmed. "According to legend, a single drop was powerful enough to form Arrakis. Dune, the desert planet. Home to the great worm. Shai-Hulud. The old man of the desert." The princess thought she detected a hint of interest at the mentioning of Arrakis and the worms, but if the captain were listening, he hid it well. "Then they disappeared, vanishing from Arrakis, and from history. But some believe that a very few slipped away into the void between galaxies, to colonize the distant and unknown worlds. Today, we call these few, Jedi."

"And one day, when the darkness has you, call out…Jedi, and we will return to the light." Picard said and false reverence, as he turned to the princess.

The captain smiled and shook his head. Instead of continuing, he walked to a small room just off to the side of his office, to a food dispenser in the wall. He stood before the device. "Tea, Earl Grey. Hot." He said into the dispenser. A small ceramic cup, steaming with his desired drink, materialized instantly, as if from thin air. Picard retrieved the cup, and returned to his seat. He took a single sip, placed the drink on the desktop, and tugged on the tunic of his red uniform two times in quick succession. He lifted his eyes to the princess.

"In the ancient Fremen tongue, Jedi means savior." He said in assurance. "Princess, I've hear this story before."

"All stories have a grain of truth in them, captain. If you're willing to dig through the rind of symbolism and myth." The Princess said. The Captain smiled, stood, grabbing his cup of tea, and returned to his window. Leia pushed on. "Captain, there is another part to the story." She added. "My father always told me, all good stories have to have one thing in common. A villain." Picard twisted and lifted an eyebrow, giving the Princess a sidelong glance. "The Fremen did not just take all the goodness from the world when they left Earth. They took, something else…"

"Evil spirts, Princess?" Picard jested. "Demons?" He turned back to the window. "The Devil?"

"I suppose that's what you would call it." She said.

Picard turned to face the Princess, who stood from her seat. On his face, the Captain wore an expression of sternness, like none Leia had seen before. He took two large steps forward, replacing his cup rather violently on the desktop.

"You would have me put the lives of my crew in danger, based solely on the intuition of a…Sith-Lord?" He said forcefully.

"I would captain." She said. "I'm sorry." Picard turned away, putting his back to the Princess. Leia took a soft step forward. "Captain," she said gently, "you asked me to trust you. Now you must trust me." She placed a hand on Picard's shoulder. He was surprised at the gesture, and turned to face the Princess. "This planetoid is the enemy." She spoke truth. "It will destroy us. It will destroy…everything."

Picard opened his mouth, as if to say something, but his words were cut off by a crying hail over the coms, before they found life.

"Captain to the Bridge." Ensign Jae shouted rather frantically over the coms from her tactical station. Picard left the princess in an instant, nearly bolting out of the ready room. In moments, he emerged to the main bridge, Leia on his heels. Picard wasted no time in asking what to problem was, barking commands as he made his way to the center of the bridge. "What is it, Ensign?"

"It's the planetoid sir." Ensign Jae responded. "I'm reading a massive buildup of energy coming from its core."

Picard looked at the main viewer. "Is it a weapon?" He asked.

"I don't believe so sir." Ensign Crusher interjected. "The energy levels don't appear to be directed at anything. These readings look more like a…warp displacement field, then anything else."

"The artificial singularity." Picard whisper, mainly to himself as he recalled what Data had said.

"Sir, the energy levels are spiking!" Ensign Jae shouted.

"Shields up!" Captain Picard ordered. "Red Alert!"

….

 _Trust your feelings, Luke._

The familiar voice said.

 _Let go, Luke…_

Skywalker often ignored the voices, but every so often he allowed them in. When he felt the turmoil of life's choices, or he was uncertain which direction to take. During these times, he welcomed them, accepting their wisdom and even allow them to guide his hand. In fact, the voices had just finished helping him with the construction of an object so secret, it could only be done here, in the privacy of his own meditation chamber, where his actions were invisible to the universe, even to his father.

But Luke was finished with his lessons for the day. He focused his mind, clearing the voices from his head as he wrapped the completed device in old oil stained cloth. He hid the now wrapped object in one of several disguised compartments within the chamber. Even a Sith-Lord has his secrets.

 _You must let go of your anger, Luke. Your hate. These things lead to the dark side…_

The voices said as they faded to the background, banished for the time begin. Luke was tired. The journey here, and the spice overdose it required of him, had taken its toll. His eyes burned, his mood was in tatters, and all he wanted to do was sleep. But he knew it would be a long time before rest would find its way to him. He inhaled deeply, breathing in new life. He let the air out of his lungs, ejecting all the negative thoughts and emotions from mind. The fears, the frustrations, the loathing, both internal and external. Luke found himself, unexpectedly, relaxing as he exhaled. He opened his eyes, calmer now.

 _Well done. You've made your first step into a larger world._

Luke started, not expecting to hear the voices again once he'd shut them out. He wondered what that could mean. He was about to answer them, to demand of them how they had returned without his permission, when a hail came over the coms.

"Lord Skywalker." Captain Piett announced from the bridge.

Luke took a moment in answering, preoccupied with the still unanswered question of how the voices had managed to fight their way through his mental defenses. He wondered to himself… _had I ever really held them back? Or was their cooperation, only a rouse?_ Luke shook the question from his head, resolving that there would be no answer this day. He lifted his head, to answer the hail.

"What is it, Captain?" He asked, rather distant and aloof.

"My lord. It's the station. You asked to be informed if there was any change in its condition."

"Well, what is it?" Luke asked, his patience growing rather thin.

"Sir, it's the planetoid's power core. It appears to be powering up." Piett said over the coms.

That was all Skywalker needed to hear. He toggled up a small switch that activated his mediation chamber. The upper half of the shell lifted, and he stood when there was enough clearance. "I'll be right there." He said to Piett as he exited the chamber.

"Very good, my lord." Piett said, but his master was already on his way.

….

Master Skywalker swiftly made his way to the opposite side of the bridge, to the defense node off the side of the command deck. His hood was not up, allowing his men full view of their Sith-Commander.

Lord Skywalker was not like other Sith-Masters, a fact those under his command understood, and appreciated, all too well. They'd heard of the horrors other officers and troopers had to go through daily. The Sith ruled with an iron fist, but Skywalker was different. His men respected him. They would follow him into death if he asked them too, and not just because they had been bred and conditioned to obey his every command. No, they would sacrifice their lives in a heartbeat for their master, because they knew, he would do the same for any one of them.

Salutes flew up whenever an officer or Stormtrooper caught eye contact with their master as he skirted the edge of the command pit. Luke never returned the salute, but nodded at each man. Seeing his approach, Captain Piett stood to attention, shoving the officer manning the defense console to alert him of Master Skywalker's approach.

"Master Skywalker, sir." Piett said with vigor. Luke only nodded, and raised his hand to the captain, a clear gesture for the man to get on with his report. Piett began in earnest. "The power surge is growing, my lord. We're not quite sure what to make of it, but we don't believe it is a weapon of any kind. Lord Vader has ordered the fleet into ready status, and to raise our shields."

Luke flashed the Captain a disapproving look, wondering if a member of his command had followed another Sith-Lord's instruction. Piett quickly picked up on his master's distrust.

"We are of course awaiting your orders, sire." Piett said. He couldn't get the words out fast enough.

Luke, pleased with his Captain's performance, smiled and nodded his agreement with his father's command. Piett looked to the officer at the defense console.

"Raise the shields." Piett said. The officer quickly obeyed.

"And the Federation vessel?" Skywalker asked.

"Still on the other side of this artificial moon, my lord. But she will be within range soon."

Luke only nodded at the report.

"Captain!" An officer within the nearest command pit shouted.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Piett asked.

"The power surge, sir. It is growing exponentially."

In that moment, Luke shot a glance to the large viewports lining the forward bulkhead of the compartment. He saw the enormous space station, set against a completely black void. He saw two of the other three Destroyers in their small fleet, each under the command of his Father, save his own. Then he saw something he had difficulty believing. All the objects, the station, the other ships, began to twist and warp out of shape. It was as though the outside world were nothing more than an enormous painting, and some great force had grabbed the center of the painting and pulled, distorting all the objects on its canvas. Luke felt like he was about to be sick. He nearly fell to his knees, but remained upright. He did however, have to put a hand on Piett's shoulder to stabilize himself.

"Are you all right, my lord."

Luke looked up to the man, and nodded. "Quite all right, Captain." He said.

And then it was over. Just as quickly at the pain and disorientation manifested, they disappeared. Luke removed his hand from the captain's shoulder. Both men looked back to the viewports, finding the station and the other ships in the fleet, exactly where they had been a moment before, like nothing had happened. But there was something else, something that forced both men to drop their jaws. Outside the windows, were stars! Lord Skywalker and Captain Piett looked to each other, then looked back to the viewports, as though checking that the other had seen the same thing. Piett left Skywalker in a flash, running to the defense console. He looked down at the readout. All the man's blood drained from him, when he read the display.

"What is it, Captain?" Skywalker asked.

Piett had difficulty finding the words. He tried, but stumbled at first.

"Al..dd…" Piett took a breath, before trying again. "Alderaan, sir." Piett said, though he seemed skeptical of his own words. "We're at Alderaan, in high orbit, my lord!"

Luke gazed out the window, spotting a small blue gem of a planet, far in the distance. He had no idea how they had come so far, so fast. It was impossible.

Somehow, he knew…

…Everything had changed!

End Episode Three…

To be concluded…


	18. Ep 4: Chapter 1

Episode Four:

The Path to Understanding, Begins from Within

1

After descending into the core of the planetoid for what felt like hours, the away team was beginning to get anxious. In reality, however, only a few minutes had passed. Fortunately, the turbo-lift was rather large, more of a cargo-lift than a personnel transport. It was roughly oval shaped, about five meters in diameter at its widest point. It also had crystal-clear, curved glass walls, making the lift appear almost entirely transparent, with the exception of the ceiling, floor, and a section at the front, where the stainless-steel door was. Not that the transparency mattered, however, as thus far, the only view outside was the scene of the interior of the long turboshaft that shot past at high speeds.

Other than that, the lift was completely devoid of detail, only a control panel next to the door, which Data had accessed to activate the lift. It was also with the control panel, that Data had determined that the compartment they were currently in, was really a part of a system of lifts, stacked on top of each other like links in a chain, spaced apart at the same distance as the station's levels. That was how the turbolift just happened to be at the very level they were on when they activated it. Like a conveyer, there was a compartment at every level, always.

Riker tried to focus on the details of the turboshaft's interior, but abandoned the attempt seconds in. The speed at which the view shot by, made him instantly nauseous.

"How long, Data?" He asked. The question was more to pass the time, than to actually know it.

"Four minutes, fifty-two seconds, since our decent began, sir." Data responded. He did not add that it had been only one minute, thirty-seven seconds, since the Commander's last inquiry. Riker nodded, then returned his gaze forward, absently staring at the doorway to avoid the view from outside the window.

Troi on the other hand, intently examined the interior of the shaft. She walked up to the wall of the lift, and stopped just shy of placing her face up to the glass. She was almost begging for a change. Her muscles where tense. Her mind was so focused on waiting for something to happen, that her nerves were becoming frayed. In that moment, she would have traded her soul for a change in scenery. And just like that, as though the universe were answering her prayers, or accepting her payment, the view outside the lift shot outward, expanding into a vast cavern at what had to be at the very center of the planetoid. It was the power generator!

Troi guessed the cavity within the station to be at least three or four kilometers wide. It was roughly disk shaped, about a kilometer high, with the turboshaft they were currently in shooting down from ceiling to floor at roughly the room's center. The Counselor had to squint to see any detail in the cavern's exterior walls, as they were too distant. She abandoned the attempted, instead focusing on the ceiling and floor. There, expanding outward from the center, were hundreds upon hundreds of enormous power conduits, occupying nearly the entirety of the top and bottom of the huge opened space. The conduits fed outward from the center, from what was obviously the power core itself. The core was made of two parts, a half-sphere at the top, and a large cylinder at the bottom. The two parts narrowed at their tips, coming together at a tiny point, like a gigantic stalactite, and stalagmite within a vast cave. The turboshaft ran alongside the power core. Troi looked down, to the core's center, and most narrow part. There she saw long and narrow catwalk, like a footbridge, that extended from their turboshaft, to the core. The catwalk had no railings, and looked only wide enough for two people to pass side to side. She didn't like the idea of crossing such an expanse with such little room for error. She knew she had little choice, however, as the lift was taking them directly to it.

Troi stepped away from the window, joining the rest of the away team who were standing, weapons drawn, at the center of the lift. Deanna pulled her own weapon, just in time for the turbolift's door to hiss open. Painfully cold air whooshed inside. It was thin, chilled, and had a slightly metallic taste to it, but it was breathable.

Lt. Worf was the first to approach the opened door, followed closely by Commander Riker and Captain Solo. Worf looked to Riker, then to Solo. Han gave the Klingon an appropriately sardonic grimace, as if to say, _what are we waiting for? Do you think we came all this way just to turn around now?_ Worf sneered at the man in response, before piercing the opening, phaser first. Han stiffened his resolve, and pushed through the door as well. The rest followed directly.

The catwalk was a horrid experience. Barely three meters wide, and once the journey across had begun, the lack of a handrail made the passing, and the fear of a fall, beyond terrifying. The atmosphere of the man-made cavern didn't help matters either. The air was so thin and cold, it burned their lungs. And the vast expanse was so large, that it created its own weather patterns. Heavy winds whipped at the away team as they desperately tried not to fall the half-kilometer or so, to the floor below.

Not far ahead, the catwalk opened to a much wider platform that wrapped around the narrowest part of the core, an almost featureless cylinder that connected the upper half-sphere of the generator, to its lower part. Each member of the away team crossed the narrow foot-bridge as rapidly as possible. Soon, they found themselves on the open deck that surrounded the core. Commander Data pulled his tricorder from its holster, while still holding his phazer with his other hand. Slowly, he approached the tall cylinder. It was about ten meters wide at least. Twenty meters tall. The core appeared to be constructed of a single piece of hardened, brushed, stainless-steel, and other than a small control panel at about chest height, and a small circular depression next to it, had no detail to observe. Data scanned the core, while Commander Riker gestured for the rest of the away team to fan out and take up defensive positions.

"The power levels within the core continue to rise, Commander." Data said.

"A weapon." Worf said.

"Possibly." Data said.

Data stepped over to the small control console. He tapped in a few commands. At once, a smaller cylinder, about a meter long, retracted from the larger core. A billowing cloud of coppery hued gas, followed by a powerful smell of cinnamon shot from the core. Data looked down at the small extruding cylinder. The top was opened, with an apparatus clearly meant for the introduction of reactive material. He lowered his tricorder, picking of small traces of residue left over on the injection ports. The minuscule amounts were more than enough to confirm his earlier theory.

"Commander." Data began. "It does appear that the station is indeed powered by the spice. I am detecting clear indications of what one would expect to find in a normal fusion reactor."

"Then it would seem, that whoever was responsible for the construction of the Dyson's sphere, and this station, was also advanced enough to fuse mélange." Commander Riker announced.

"Or _IS_ advance enough." Word added. Hinting that the past tense may not be appropriate when referencing the stations inhabitants.

"That is a possibility commander." Data said, backing up Worf's statement.

Riker nodded his understanding of the danger they were possibly in. He walked to the core, and gently ran his hand over the cold metal. "Data, you said the power levels were rising. That could present a threat." He looked back to Data. "Could we disable, or destroy the core, should it come to that?"

Data resumed scanning the core with his tricorder. "Given the natural stability of the mélange substance, I doubt any type of explosion we could generate would be powerful enough to damage or destroy the core." He paused a moment, before continuing. "However, assuming that the power generator works off the same basic principals of any fusion reactor, we should be able to introduce additional mélange into the system, inducing a chain reaction."

"An overload." Riker clarified.

"Precisely, Commander." Data said.

"How big of an overload?" Solo asked.

"Given the unknowns…" Data analyzed. "Impossible to say. However, it would not be unreasonable to assume that such an overload would create an explosion sufficient enough to destroy the entire planetoid."

"Data, how long would it take for the overload to occur, once we introduce spice into the core?" Riker asked.

"Again, impossible to say without additional information." Data said.

"Your best guess then." Riker ordered.

Data paused for a moment, then looked up to the Commander. "Here at the core level, the reaction would be essentially instantaneous. With the resulting explosion encompassing the rest of the planetoid in less than _ninety-seconds_ , should the energy levels reach that capacity."

"Meaning someone would have to stay behind." Riker added.

"That would appear to be correct, Commander."

"How much of the spice would we need?" Riker asked.

"Uncertain, commander." Data replied. "It is entirely possible that the amount currently on board, will not be enough to begin the overload."

Riker nodded. "If the power levels continue to rise, we may not have a choice." He said with assurance. He looked to Data. "Data, I want you to head back to the ship. Update the captain on our situation, and inform him of our plan. If he agrees, bring the spice back here." Riker looked to the rest of away team. "The rest of us will remain here, and secure the core." He looked back to Data. "And Mr. Data. I want you to come up with some sort of delivery system to inject the spice. I don't plan on sacrificing any of us."

"Aye, sir." Data confirmed his orders. He was about to turn to leave when…

"Commander!" Worf shouted.

They all turned to see what had Worf so alerted. They were stunned at what they found.

All around them, as though they appeared out of thin air, were dozens upon dozens of strange humanoid beings, all garbed nearly head to toe in thick, rubberlike armor. What little flesh was left exposed looked necrotized and filled with rot. Small devices had been directly implanted throughout their bodies. The tissue around the devices looked heavily infected, in not totally dead. Black tubes shot into, and out of random places on their bodies, plunging into their white flesh, only to be connected to some other part of their body, or black armor. Many of the men and women had ugly mechanical eyepieces bolted directly to their faces, and most had only one biological arm. The opposing arm was a motorized replacement, topped with various claws, tooled gadgets, or other devices of apparent sinister use. Few of the inhabitants looked to be of the same species, and many looked to have been completely taken apart, and put back together again. In a word, they were grotesque.

Commander Riker, took a VERY cautious step towards the inhabitants.

"My name is Commander William Rik…"

"We are the Borg. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own…" The inhabitants interrupted in near perfect unison, as though speaking in one voice. "Resistance is futile!"

The Borg took a step forward, there movements where heavily orchestrated, as though they were being puppeted, rather than making individual choices. Riker and the rest of the away team, took a step back in response.

"We mean you no harm." Riker said, his hands up. "We are peaceful representatives of the United Federation of Pl…"

"We have examined your defensive capabilities, and determined them to be inadequate to withstand our assault." The Borg said in a heavily synthesized voice. "Lower your weapons. Prepare to be…assimilated."

"Like hell!" Han said, raising his blaster. Commander Riker pulled the weapon down before Captain Solo could get off a shot. Han looked at the Commander in stunned, angered silence.

"We will fire only when absolutely necessary." Riker Barked. "That's an order!"

Han stared daggers at the Commander. But disengaged when he noticed one of the Borg getting dangerously close. "It's necessary!" He said.

Riker turned, seeing the Borg male advance quickly. He shouted. "Halt! We will defend ourselves!"

The man either did not hear, or did not care about the warning. He continued, unabated. Riker looked to Worf. The Klingon's phaser was already aimed true on the threat. Riker nodded to his friend. It was all the acknowledgement Worf needed.

Worf's phaser shot through the chilled air, striking the man in what should have been the heart. The Borg appeared only slightly disturbed by the hit, and soon resumed its advance, unaffected by the stun setting of Worf's phaser.

"Worf!" Riker shouted. "Do whatever you have to, to stop them!"

"Aye, Commander!"

Worf tapped a few commands into his weapon, and discharged his phaser. Molten, orange-hot plasma shot out, hissing and crackling with deadly energy. Worf's aim was dead on, hitting the Borg squarely in the chest. The blast nearly split the man in two. The body fell lifeless to the ground. Riker expected the rest of the crowd to advance in anger, but the Borg acted as though nothing had happened. The hoard continued to advance in an unbreakably slow pace. Worf fired again, cutting down another Borg. His phaser rang out over and over. Each shot expertly finding its mark, and ending another attacker.

Again, Worf discharged his weapon. But this time the beam did not make contact with its intended target. The phaser blast was harmlessly absorbed and deflected by a personal energy shield that materialized just before the Borg's body. Worf Fired at another Borg, but that shot too was blocked. Worf looked at Riker, frustrated, and angry.

Riker fired his own weapon, successfully stopping one of the inhabitants. He fired again, but a shield stopped his shot, protecting the Borg he was taking aim at. Understanding washed over him. Their weapons had become useless after only a few shots. They were going to be overrun!

"Get back to the turbolift!" He shouted with all the power in his lungs. The rest of the away team instantly began making their way back to the catwalk, Troi in the lead. They ran across with all the strength they had left in their legs, this time completely ignoring the dangers of a possible fall. Riker bellowed orders as they ran, at the same time, turning occasionally to fire another worthless phaser shot.

"Data, activate the lift!" He yelled.

Data, who had also found his weapon useless after only a few shots, abandoned his fire, and ran to the front of the line, past Counselor Troi, to the turbolift's control panel. He began accessing the lift. His fingers blurred with a speed and dexterity only he was capable of.

"We're in trouble!" Han said as he turned from a dead run, facing the oncoming hoard.

The Borg followed, though did not appear in a hurry. They moved with precision, as though the multitude were acting with one mind, as apposed to dozens. Han lifted his blaster, taking aim at a random Borg, and fired. The bolt struck perfectly in the center of the man's chest. The Borg twitched and jerked, more malfunctioning, than dying, before falling over the side of the catwalk. A smile beamed across Han's face as he fired again, then again, felling one Borg after another. Their bodies too, toppling over the side. Han's weapon was decisively effective. That was until, like the others, his blaster fire also began bouncing off Borg shields. Han's weapon had become as useful as a knife at a blaster fight. He lifted his blaster to his face, and gave the weapon a disgusted look, as though it were its own fault for not working. Solo turned, and broke into a dead run across the rest of the catwalk.

Worf stepped to a side, allowing Captain Solo to pass. The Klingon pulled a long, two tipped dagger from the sheath he wore on his back. He whirled and twisted the Mek'Leth with expert precision, bringing the weapon to his chest height, and aimed one of its razor shard points towards the nearest Borg. Worf inhaled a deep breath as the man continued to advance. He tensed the muscles in his arms, raised his weapon, and let all the air from his lungs as he brought the blade down on the Borg, making full contact where the man's neck met his shoulders. The Mek'Leth nearly cleaved the man in two, staring at the clavicle, and stopping just above the pubic bone. The Borg fell dead to the ground. Worf continued his assault on the others, moving swiftly, never stopping, ducking a blow by a random mechanical arm, then spiraling around to another man, sinking his blade into a Borg's heart, burying it nearly to the hilt. He pulled his weapon free, then moved to another.

By body count, the away team was winning, but there were more Borg coming, and they couldn't stop them all. They were fighting a losing battle. Worf, Riker, and Solo all backed down the catwalk, which widened only slightly just before the door of the lift, just enough to allow room for the five of them, and none for the Borg.

"Hurry, Data!" Troi shouted as she watched the wall of death as it approached.

"I am attempting to activate the lift Counselor." Data replied. "But it appears to be in use. A compartment is descending to this level."

Troi gave Data an incredulous look. She did not like the implications of that. Not one bit. In her mind, all she could see were more Borg awaiting them on the approaching turbolift. All seemed lost.

Worf was still frantically trying to defeat as many as he could. He struck out at one of the Borg, but this time, his attack had been anticipated. The Borg blocked and grabbed the Mek'Leth, ripping it from Worf's hands, and tossing the weapon over the side. The Borg lunged at the Klingon, successfully forcing Worf to his knees. The thing stood over him, raising a fist to the Lt. Captain Solo watched as two small tube-like needles projected out of the Borg's upper wrist, and took aim at Worf's exposed neck. The purpose and design of the tubules seem painfully obvious. This was how they assimilated someone. Worf, was about to become a Borg!

Without a thought, Han ran directly towards the Borg. He lowered his shoulder just before the hit, and slammed his body into the one that held Lt. Worf. The Borg literally flew off the side of the catwalk. After, Worf gave Han a forced, _thank you_ , look, before scurrying quickly to his feet. Han tried to back away, but a fallen Borg grabbed onto his boot before he could. Han Howled, and shouted as he fell to the ground, and began to be pulled into the hoard. He kicked ferociously at the Borg that had clamped onto him, but it was no use. Worf tried to grab Captain Solo by the arms, but he was pulled away too fast. Han felt Worf's grasp slip from his fingers as his lower body became emerged within the multitude. Han was sure he'd reached his end. But just then, he felt someone reach out, and grab his outstretched hand. The grip was painful and powerful, like a machine press. The hand yanked on Han's arm, nearly ripping it out of its socket. Han found himself instantly freed from the swarming hive of Borg bodies. He flew through the air, and slammed, back first, to the floor. He looked up, seeing Mr. Data grabbing and tossing one Borg after another, throwing them over the side like ragdolls. But it wasn't going to be enough. Han looked over to Troi, seeing the defeat in her eyes. Anger raged through him. He stood, and ran back to the front, joining Data, Worf, and Riker in their attempt to hold off the Borg. They weren't going to get him without a fight!

Troi watched as the futility of their fight came to the forefront. Soon, all four men found themselves overrun and overpowered. Even Data was eventually bested, as six large drones lept on top of the android, bringing him to his knees. Troi saw her friend became ingulfed in a mass of Borg bodies, like insects covering their prey. Fear froze her mind and body as each member of the away team was forced to the ground, an accompanying Borg on top of them. She didn't even seem to notice as her own Borg companion crept up on her, though she certainly saw his approach. When close enough, the mindless automaton lifted his wrist the Counselor's exposed flesh at the nape of her neck. With her back against the wall of the turbolift, Deanna felt a small bump, telling her that the lift had just stopped at their level, a lift that no doubt carried more Borg. Hope was lost. Troi surrendered to her fear, completely forgetting her training, and the litany her mother had taught her. Her life as it was, was over. Resistance truly was, futile…

Two narrow tubules extend themselves from the Borg's upper wrist. Troi didn't know exactly what they were, but she could guess. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. But just before the needles made contact with her skin, the doors to the lift slid open. The movement of the doors had the effect of pushing her away from the tubules, but it was only a temporary reprieve she knew. Troi didn't bother looking up to see what awaited inside the lift. But the Borg that threatened her did. The drone seemed to freeze, and backed away slightly at what he saw. Deanna was surprised by this reaction, but nothing could have prepared her, for what happened next.

Deanna watched as the Borg's body rose up, as though grabbed by some mystical force, and literally hovered in midair. It floated there for a moment, before being tossed over the edge of the catwalk. Troi's eyes instinctively darted to Riker, who himself was being pinned to the floor by an attacking Borg. Just as quickly as her Borg was ripped away from her, Riker's Borg was pulled away from him, its upper trunk lifting from the Commander's body, while its lower half remained stationary. In one quick motion, the Borg's body was bent backwards, snapping the man in half like a twig. The Borg lay on the ground, twitching, and lifeless. Riker slide away as quickly as he could.

The commotion was enough to garner the attention of the remaining Borg. Each halted their assault on the away team, and turned their attention to what was inside the lift. Troi finally looked up as well, seeing what the Borg saw. Her jaw gapped in awe.

Exiting the lift, dressed in a Federation Security Guard's golden uniform, a small rucksack strapped to his back, was the Sith prisoner she and Data had interrogated only hours before. Paul Atreides. Without warning, Paul lifted his hand toward the hoard. In that instant, Borg bodies went flying off both sides of the catwalk, forced away from the center as though someone where unfastening a zipper from a jacket. Commander Data was instantly freed from the hive, as the Borg flew off his body. In seconds, half the length of the catwalk was completely empty of all but the away team. It was only then, that Paul looked down at the Counselor.

"Get inside!" He shouted.

No one needed any more encouragement than that. Each member of the away team scurried or crawled inside the lift as quickly as they could. Troi checked each man, including Data for puncture marks from the Borg tubules. She was relieved when she found none. Data Instantly went to the control panel to activate the lift, looking back to ensure that all were on board. When he saw Paul was not, he looked outside the lift, seeing the Sith-Lord's, blue in blue eyes, staring back at him.

"We have to go!" Data shouted to Paul.

"Yes." Paul whispered. "You, do."

Paul raised both arms, stretching them to his sides. He griped both hands, as though grabbing on to some invisible force, and pulled his hands together. In that same motion, the doors to the lift where forced closed, and the lift sped away. With the Federation crew safe, at least for now, Paul turned back to the core, expecting to see the dozens of Borg left over from his attack. He did a double take, when he saw that they had all disappeared, vanished as if into thin air. He squinted suspiciously, before checking his backpack, ensuring that the vile of the blue liquid he'd taken from the cargo bay, was still secured. After he felt that it was, he began his journey across the catwalk. He thought of the crew of the Enterprise as he did.

He'd found them through the lingering connection left over from when the Counselor had probed his mind. Like a trail of bread crumbs, he'd followed that beacon to her, and to the rest of the away team. And, through that connection, felt them as the departed now, hopefully to safety. He found relief in that, but in truth, he hadn't come there to rescue them, only to search for answers. He had to know why he was here. And what might still await him.

He needed to know the truth.


	19. Ep 4: Chapter 2

2

Captain Needa observed gleefully, through the forward viewports of the command deck, his squadron of Tie Fighters, merging with the growing armada fed by each Destroyer. Needa was looking forward the engagement. He recently come to feel that his Sith-Master, Lord Vader, had grown disappointed with his performance. But now, with victory almost assured, he could hardly contain his excitement. The Federation vessel didn't stand a chance against them, not with four squadrons of the Empire's most elite fighter pilots bearing down on them.

"Captain Needa!" An officer reported. Needa turned momentarily from his view outside the window.

"What is it, lieutenant Jerjerrod?" Needa asked.

"The first wave is reporting in, sir. They will be in weapons range, momentarily."

Needa turned back to he window, not wanting to miss the sight of the Federation ship's obliteration. His eye's narrowed to little more than slits. An evil grin split the man's face in two.

"Very good, lieutenant." He hissed. "Very good, indeed."

...

* * *

...

"Time." Captain Picard asked with a stoic face. His eyes were locked on the main viewscreen, to the approaching wave of imperial fighters.

"Forty seconds, sir." Ensign Jae replied from her post at tactical.

"Mr. LeForge!" Picard called over the coms, to his chief engineer.

"Yes, sir!" Geordie replied swiftly from the engineering compartment of the Millennium Falcon. His was breathing heavy. His tone, impatient.

"We're running out of time, Commander!" Picard pushed.

"We're moving as fast as we can, sir. But if we don't reinforce these power relays, we'll blow the Falcon apart, and fry half the ODN conduits on the Enterprise. The Empire won't have to fire a shot. We'll blow ourselves up."

"Geordie." The Captain returned in a soft but firm voice. "Very shortly, there won't be a ship for us to blow up!"

"Understood, sir!" Geordie replied.

Picard closed the com-channel. There was nothing to do now, but wait.

"Twenty seconds." Ensign Jae counted down.

Picard turned to the Princess, siting to his left, in the chair normally reserved for Counselor Troi. "Your highness. Can we expect any support from Alderaan."

Leia shook her head reluctantly. "I'm sorry Captain." She said. "Alderaan is peaceful. We have no weapons."

Picard clinched his jaw, not at all liking what he heard. He looked forward to the main viewer. He watched as the tight wall of Imperial Tie Fighters bore down on their position. Their advance was as relentless and unstoppable as an approaching tsunami. Captain Picard moved to the edge of his seat, as Ensign Jae continued her countdown…

"Five…Four…Three…"

"Forward shields to maximum!" Picard barked. "All hands…brace for impact!"

...

* * *

...

Carrying his fourth bundle of heavily insulated cable, C-3PO scrambled to the rear of the ship as quickly as his metal legs would carry him. "OH…I wasn't built for this sort of manual labor." He groaned.

A jolt from another laser blast batted 3PO about the compartment. Over and over, the ship took one hit after another, sending the golden droid flying back and forth as he struggled to make his way across the ship's main hold. The Falcon was taking serious damage from the battle raging outside… _If only we weren't docked with the Enterprise_ , 3PO thought to himself, _its them they're after, not us_! The ship took hit on the starboard side, sending 3PO skidding to port. He let out a woefully exaggerated cry of sorrow and self-pity, but continued with his assignment of bringing extra power conduit to the Federation engineer.

The Falcon was vibrating and shaking violently from the blows they were taking, and the constant changing of inertia from all the evasive maneuvers the Federation ship was doing, didn't help matters. The droid found it nearly impossible to remain up right, even between the blasts. But eventually, he was able to make his way through the main hold, passing Chewbacca, banging on some random piece of machinery as he frantically worked inside the service access portal in the floor.

"AARRRRGGH!" Chewbacca howled.

"I'm moving it as fast as I can. Screaming about it won't help." 3PO said in reply. He continued forward, away from the rude Wookie. "Commander LeForge. Chewbacca says that we must connect the final power conduit, if we want to keep the ship from being blown out of the sky."

"Then bring it over here!" LeForge shouted in frustration from the rear of the engineering compartment, the turmoil of the battle making it difficult to hear.

The hits were getting stronger. Steam billowed throughout the cabin as various pressurized containers blew. Sparks flew everywhere. Just about anything that wasn't nailed down, was projected across the room in random volleys. 3PO pushed through the calamity, and made his way over to the LeForge. The Commander grabbed one end of the wire, and quickly began connecting it at his end.

"Sir, I've estimated our chances of success at three-thousand, seven-hundred, and twenty…to one!"

"Never tell me the odds!" Geordie shouted as he grabbed the other end of the cable, and began running it across the length of the floor to the access portal where Chewbacca waited. Just then, the ship took a huge hit to its underbelly, sending the commander flying upwards. He landed, ungracefully, and slid across the floor the rest of the way to the Wookie. LeForge handed Chewy the other end of the cable, just as he stopped.

"ROAAWGGGH." Chewy thanked LeForge. The oversized Wookie bent down, and connected his end.

They needed to spread out the load of the massive burst of energy they were about to deliver to the Enterprise, or they would certainly overload the generator. Once the coupling had been connected successfully, Geordie shouted into the commlink…

"Bridge! We're ready here. Shut down the Impulse engines, and we'll initiate the power transfer!"

Back on the Bridge of the Enterprise, Picard stood strait from his command chair in less than a heartbeat. "Very good, Commander!" He said. "OPPS…are we ready?"

"Just a moment, sir!" Ensign Rager at the OPPS console shouted in reply. "We have to completely vent the charged plasma from the impulse reactor, or the power surge will blow every relay on the ship."

The vibrations were getting worse. Sparks flew from every terminal. Suddenly, the lights kicked off, and the bridge was emerged in a sea of red from the emergency backups. The ship took a massive blast on its port side. The Enterprise jolted up, sending half the bridge crew tumbling from one side of the compartment, to the other. Somehow, Picard managed to hold his position, though he was knocked off kilter, and fell to one knee. He shouted to back to the OPPS station.

"Ensign!" He shouted, almost in vain.

"Venting complete, Captain!" Ensign Rager shouted calmly through the commotion. "Matching resonance frequency of the shield notation to the deflector dish!" She looked up. "Ready to initiate Ionic Pulse, sir…"

Everything seemed to go still. Time itself appeared to stop. Picard pulled himself to his feet by means of the chairback of the Helm station. He stared out onto the main viewer, watching a wave of fighters coming around for another pass…

"Engage…"

...

* * *

...

After finishing his third attack run on the Federation vessel, fighter pilot, Mauler Mithil, swung around for another approach, this time targeting the ships main bridge. The Twin Ion Engines of Mauler's fighter screamed through the cold vacuum of space as he maneuvered his ship into its final approach vector. In the distance, but closing fast, he could easily see the ship's characteristic saucer section, an awkward design that nearly all federation ships had in common. He made a minor course correction, and brought the main bridge into his targeting reticle. With the bridge in his sights, all he had to do now, was wait until he returned into weapons range.

The Federation vessel was taking a heavy pounding from the attack force. Tie fighters were swarming the ship, striking at any vulnerable spot they could find in her shields, weakening them for their inevitable failure. Mauler could see the small Corellian cargo vessel hard docked to the larger ship on the underside of its drive section between its two outboard Warp Nacelles. He knew that it too, would be soon destroyed.

The other fighters had done their job, allowing Mauler to find his opening. Soon, he would slip in, let loose a couple of proton torpedoes, perhaps three for good measure, and slip back out, leaving the ship in a smoldering ruin. He powered up his cannons for a final run. But just before entering into weapons range, Mauler saw the Federation ship's Warp engines ignite, just for a moment. A quick pulse of low intensity light exploded from the ship's nacelles. The faint light spread out, and dissipated into the surrounding space. He thought perhaps they had tried to escape, only to discover that their engines had failed them. It only made sense to him, and he thought nothing more of it. He returned to his targeting computer, finding the ship still waiting like a trapped animal for the final kill stroke. He grabbed his control stick for his final maneuver…

What!" Mauler said aloud as he pulled back on his controls. The controls slipped back, their normal resistance gone. He pushed hard on the controls, then pulled them back. The fighter didn't react. Frantically, he began pressing every button within his reach, and flipping every toggle on his control stick, just to get a response. Nothing happened. He tried signaling for help, but got no response. He tried restarting his engines, and reinitialized his main computer. Anything. But still, nothing. He had no power. He sat back in his seat, as the realization of his broken ship washed over him. His fighter was dead! In that moment, if he could have fired a torpedo, he would have targeted his own ship! He had failed his master!

But there were many others in the air, and victory was still assured. Mauler leaned forward, and looked out his cockpit window, expecting to find the other fighters in his wing finishing off the Federation vessel. His stomach fell at what he saw.

The battle that had been raging just moments before, had fallen silent. Not a single laser bolt flew through the air. Mauler watched helpless as a wave of Tie Fighters closed in on the Federation ship. They started out in perfect formation. Soon however, the formation began to drift, just slightly at first, their loss of control almost undetectable at first. Before long, their motions became highly exaggerated, some slamming into other fighters, some drifting out into the infinity of space, but none under their own power!

Mauler sat back again, anger boiling through him. His fighter impotently floated away from its target, without firing a shot. He hoped the Federation ship would grant him the mercy of a quick death. He knew Lord Vader, would not!

...

* * *

...

"The fighters are all powered down sir!" Ensign Crusher reported with excitement. "It worked!" He said, more convincing himself, than the others. He hadn't believed that it would.

"Too early for celebrations, Wesley." The Captain said as he placed his hand on the chair-back of the Helms station. He looked out on the view-screen, seeing the imperial fighters as they drifted, without power, into high orbit around the artificial planetoid. "What's the status on the Destroyers?" Picard asked.

Wesley's eyes darted back down to his terminal. He shook his head, reprimanding himself for having forgotten about the four heavy cruisers that were still out there. His face went white when he saw the readout. "Captain…" Wesley said hesitantly. He tried to finish the report, but his voice failed him.

"What is it, Ensign?"

Wesley paused before answering. He looked up to the captain and gulped before answering. "One of the Destroyers, sir. They didn't launch their fighters. I'm still detecting a full complement within her bays, powered up and ready for launch."

In that instant, some of the fire in the captain's eyes seemed to go out. Wesley wasn't sure what frightened him more. The fact that one of the Destroyers had held back its fighters. The reality that the Enterprise had not accounted for such a possibility, and was now defenseless against them. Or the look he saw in his captain's eyes. Wesley knew, they were in trouble.

Picard stood straight up, and walked away from the helms station to the center of the bridge. He stood there in silence for a good long while. After a time, he nodded to himself, as if accepting the reality of the situation, then turned to the Princess. "Any chance on getting a signal to the rebel alliance?" He asked. The Princess returned his question with only a look, but it was a look that spoke volumes. It told him, _No!_

Picard grimaced in frustration. He brought his hand up, covering his mouth. He looked down at the floor, as though the answer to life's mysteries had been written on the carpet in bold lettering. Silence fell over the bridge. No one dared interrupt the captain's thoughts. That was, until a small alert began ringing out from the tactical console. It was barely audible, but in the dead quiet, it was enough to pull the Captain from his wonderings.

"What is it?" He asked, unusually distant. Ensign Jae, still manning the tactical station, answered.

"It's…the planetoid sir?" Jae responded as she relayed the information from her terminal. "It looks like the power levels we detected before are continuing to rise." She tapped in a few more additional commands. "The station is also changing its positioning, reorienting itself towards the planet."

Leia shot up from her chair. Her eyes locked with the Captain's. "Alderaan!"

Picard twisted around to Ensign Rager. "OPPS, can you confirm?"

"Confirmed sir." Rager said. "The station is closing on the planet."

"And the energy levels?" Picard asked.

"Continuing to rise, sir." Wesley said. A curious look slathered itself across his face. "But…based on these projections." Wesley stopped cold at the report being fed to him. Though he fully understood the data the helm console was giving him, he had a hard time believing them. He pushed his terminal away, and stood at attention before his captain. "Captain, if were correct that the station is a weapon, and with these power levels…" Wesley found it difficult to say the rest. Not with the Princess standing directly before him.

"Go on. What is it?" She gently prodded him along. Wesley was somehow comforted by the Princess' obvious concern for him.

"Based on the current levels, and the rate at which they are rising…" Wesley looked to the captain. Picard nodded to the young man to continue. Wesley inhaled deeply, and spilled out the information in one hep, like trying to pull off a bandage in one quick stroke. "It could destroy the entire planet, ma'am." He said, barely above a whisper.

"What!" Picard said incredulously. He took a step closer to Wesley. "How?" He said, but he was not actually asking, and Wesley did not respond. Picard stared out at the planetoid through the main viewer. He couldn't believe it. The Princess had been right, all along. Picard turned back to the tactical station. "Open a channel to the destroyers." He barked. "We need to get them to call off their attack. We need to talk to them. Get them to see reason." He looked to the princess.

"They won't listen, Captain." Leia said, as though her planet had already been lost.

Picard looked back to the viewer. He knew the princess was right. He too, felt as through all hope was lost, and he had no idea what to do…

...

* * *

...

Captain Needa's lifeless body lay on the floor directly outside Lord Vader's meditation chamber. Needa had his hands to his throat in a death grip. His eyes were dramatically stretched open, an expression of surprise left frozen on his face.

"Apology, accepted…Captain Needa…" Lord Vader said as he stepped over the body. Needa had failed him, for the last time.

Vader began walking down the hallway, away from his chamber, when he was stopped by another officer. He was a timid, tiny creature, that Vader had had little contact with before.

"Lord Vader!"

"What is it, Lieutenant Jerjerrod?" Vader asked.

Jerjerrod gulped, visibly shaken by the sight of Captain Needa's broken body, just a few paces away. He pushed down his fear, and continued his report. "It's the Nemesis, my lord. They've not launched their fighters, nor have they begun advancing on the Federation Vessel." Jerjerrod reported. Vader looked at the man, but said nothing. "We've tried hailing them sire, but…they're not answering…my lord."

"Prepare my shuttle." Vader said as he began bolting down the hallway. "You're in command now, Captain, Jerjerrod!"

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord! Very good, my lord." Captain Jerjerrod said, both thankful, and frightened at the same time. After Jerjerrod was confident that Vader had fully departed down the hallway, he nodded at two stormtroopers standing guard nearby, ordering them to collect the body of their former captain. He began making his way to the nearest turbolift to the bridge, just at the other side of the corridor. Before entering the lift, he looked back at Needa's body, and took a breath to calm himself. He knew if he failed to defeat the Federation vessel, he would meet the same fate.

...

* * *

...

Back on the artificial planetoid, the away team was just entering, at a fast pace, the docking bay they had first landed in. Riker was pleased to find their runabout apparently undisturbed. He was not at all convinced that it would still be there. But it appeared that whatever those cybernetic creatures were, they did not view the away team as enough of a threat to pursue them after they left the core, or to collect their craft, trapping them here. It was either that, or the Sith-Lord they had once held as a prisoner, Paul, had somehow managed to keep them so preoccupied, that he'd bought them time to escape. Riker didn't at all like the idea that he'd left Paul down there, perhaps to die, but his first duty had to be the safety of his crew. He hadn't a choice in the matter.

Upon seeing the runabout, the away team broke out in a dead run, desperate to reach it. Deanna stopped, visibly upset. Captain Solo ran past her. "Come on!" He shouted back to Troi. "We have to go!"

Hearing the commotion, Riker turned to see Counselor Troi standing still, bent over with her hands at her waist as though in pain. She grimaced as she stared back to the hallway the eventually led to the deep turboshaft to the core.

"Deanna!" Will shouted. "We have to get out of here!" She acted as though she did not hear him. He ran back to her. "What is it?" He asked. Deanna looked up to Will, sincerity bleeding from her eyes.

"It's Paul." Troi said nearly in tears.

"I know. Once were back on the ship, we'll try to find to get him back…"

"No!" Troi interrupted the Commander. "You don't understand…" She put her head in her hands, fighting off some unknown pain. She looked up, gazing around the interior of the docking bay's large cabin. "Will…this place. Its…evil. It…wrong. Somehow, its wrong." She looked back at the Commander. Her tears dried in an instant. Fortitude and resolve suddenly plastered on her face. Emotion all but drained from her expression. "It must be destroyed."

"I know." Riker replied. "We need to get back to the ship. We'll get the spice and find a way back into the core…"

"Paul has the spice." Troi said robotically.

Riker gasped. He squinted at Deanna, as though not believing her. But he knew better. He looked back to the runabout, seeing Mr. Data running up to see what the matter was. Riker spoke when Data was close enough.

"Mr. Data." Riker said. "We're going to have to find another way into the core."

"I believe I have an idea on that, Commander." Mr. Data said. "But we'll need the Enterprise."

Riker nodded, then turned to Troi. "Deanna. You were connected to his mind, back in the brig…Can you still communicate with him?" Riker asked. Deanna nodded. A single tear running down her cheek. She knew what the Commander wanted her to say to him.

"I believe so, Commander." Was all she could say.

"Then we have to go! Now!" Riker ordered. Troi and Data both nodded hesitantly, before all three bolted across the docking bay, to the runabout Captain Solo and Lieutenant Worf had already powered up.

Time was running out. And they all knew it…


	20. Ep 4: Chapter 3

3

Captain Piet made his way across the Destroyer's empty shuttle bay to his Sith-Master, Luke Skywalker, who was standing alone next to the cargo elevator, patiently waiting for the arrival of Lord Vader's shuttle. As he walked, Piet's footfalls on the glossy black floor echoed heavily throughout the compartment. At any other time, the shuttle bay would have been a rush of activity; loading and unloading of cargo, or personnel transports, maintenance droids buzzing around, and stormtroopers going about their daily rounds. But today, there was nothing. All was silent, as his master had ordered all personnel away from the area. Piet could only guess as to why.

Piet crossed the large entrance/egress porthole of the shuttle bay, his gaze lingering to the stars beyond the force-field protected opening. The battle between the three other Imperial ships, and the Federation vessel was now in full swing. The huge ships looked tiny and insignificant due to the vast distance that separated himself from them. Small flashes of light ignited randomly across the field of battle from the exchange of fire between sides. The specks did little to show the true magnitude of the explosions. Piet found himself mesmerized by the conflagration, and began veering off course to his master. That was, until he was alerted by the droid that had been ordered to accompany him.

"Beep. Boop-boop...bee bee bee…boop." R2D2 said, as he rolled along next to Piet.

The Captain looked down, but since he had no idea what the droid was saying, he ignored the comment, and continued forward, more focused now.

Master Skywalker was standing just ahead. He was wearing his black robes with his hood up, standing as still as a statue. Piet looked to his right, just catching sight of Lord Vader's shuttle as it began entering the bay, piercing the forcefield that held out the vacuum of space. The shuttle's two lower wings began folding up from their flight positions as it entered, like a butterfly landing on a twig. The shuttle evacuated four jets of steam as it begun its landing, filling the bay with a sulfurous, metallic odor. Piet, hastened his pace, and in moments, stood at attention directly in front of his Sith-Commander. R2, only beeped an acknowledgement.

"My Lord!" Piet said. Luke turned to his officer. "All Tie Fighter wings have launched. As ordered, they are maintaining their distance from the engagement."

"Very good, Captain Piet." Luke said stoically, sensing his officer's inner conflict with his given orders. "You may speak freely, Captain. I must hear your words." Luke insisted. He hated that he had to test their loyalty in this way, but he had no choice.

Piet paused, not at all sure how to say what was on his mind. But he understood the command well enough. It was an order. He looked over to the shuttle as it completed its final docking procedures, and took a slight step towards his master. He leaned in, and cleared his throat. "My Lord." He paused again. He did know how to explain what he felt. He took a breath, before settling on the simplest way to say it. "Your men will not leave their posts, sir. We are loyal…to the last."

Luke turned to Piet, somewhat surprised by the outright sincerity of what the man said, and felt. He was honored, though he wasn't at all sure if he deserved to be. "There will be no reprisals, or punishment, for any that wish to leave." Luke told Piet.

Piet stood to attention, as though the very idea of him betraying his Sith-Commander, repulsed him. "Your orders, sire?" Piet asked firmly, ensuring that his Sith-master knew unconditionally, that no man would defect from his command. Luke smiled, and nodded gently.

"Leave us." Luke said. "Wait for my orders."

Piet stood ridged, brought his hand to his forehead, and saluted. In the man's eyes, Luke could see his inner fight, his confusion, and his fear. But he could also see his steadfast loyalty, and his commitment. Piet had made his own choice. And that, more than anything else, honored Luke. In that moment, Skywalker was not the man's master. He was his comrade.

Piet walked away just as swiftly as he had entered. R2D2 remained. Luke approached his trusty droid, placing a hand on the droid's domed top while he waited for his father to exit the shuttle.

"Did you bring what I asked for? …old friend." Luke asked R2.

'WHHOOOOO-Whooo… … ." R2 responded.

Luke smiled, and turned back to the shuttle, steam billowing out both sides. He began to walk away. R2 followed.

... ... ... ...

Descending in hast from the ramp of the Imperial shuttle as it lowered from the nose of the craft, Lord Vader's black cape flapped behind him as he cut through the clouds of billowing steam, jetting out from underneath the small transport vessel. His anger rose, when, at the bottom of the ramp, he noticed that Luke was no longer waiting form him there. In a huff, Vader walked around the side of the ship, spotting his apprentice standing some distance away, directly in front of the bay's docking porthole. Luke's back was turned towards Vader, his hand placed gently on a small, well used astromech droid. Vader was infuriated that he, the master of all Sith, would have to stoup to the level of crossing the entire length of the bay, just to talk to his son. His rage was beginning to boil to the surface.

The journey took only a moment, and Vader soon found himself at the other side of the bay, several paces away from Luke. Luke did not turn, nor express any interest in speaking first. This only served to exacerbate Vader's frustration and anger. When he realized that Luke would not be addressing his master in the proper way, he decided to dispense with the pleasantries… "Why do you betray me, son?" Vader asked. Luke said nothing. "Leia, has made her choice. Her destiny lies apart from yours." Lord Vader took a short step forward. "Luke," he said, "It is pointless to resist. You don't yet know the full power of the dark side."

"I know enough." Luke whispered.

"Don't let your emotions cloud what you know to be true." Vader returned. "Your feelings for your sister betray you."

"And your ambitions betray you, father." Luke said. He turned to Vader. The resolution in his eyes, could not be ignored. "We've scanned the station. It's building up a charge. Aimed at the planet." Vader turned away from his son. "But then, you already knew that. Didn't you?" Luke prodded. "Tell me father, will Alderaan's destruction be a demonstration of the Emperor's power… or of yours?"

"The Emperor is weak." Vader said, his back still to Luke. "With a weapon of such power, we could destroy him." Vader turned back around. "Join me, and we could rule the Galaxy, as father and son!"

Luke only shook his head. "It must be destroyed, father." Luke said with little emotion, as though speaking only truth.

Lord Vader walked around Luke, to the very edge of the forcefield. Once there, he gazed out on the battle in the distance. He couldn't see the giant space station, as the compartment was recessed somewhat within the ship's inset hangar bay, but he knew it was there. He could see Alderaan, however. He felt no emotion for the lives that would soon be lost there. Their sacrifice was necessary. For stability, there must be authority. For peace, there must be power! For power, there must be destruction! No, He would let the rebel planet be eradicated. Only then, when he knew the station's full potential, would he seize control of the planetoid, and fulfill his destiny. Soon, they would see an end to the Rebel Alliance, then the Federation, as his grip of power encompassed the whole of the galaxy. Nothing could stop him now!

Vader's focus returned on the ships, noting the small flashes of light as they radiated out from the battle, into the infinity of space. His victory was all but inevitable…

Luke replaced his hand on R2's domed top, at which, R2 began projecting a hologram some distance away from his metal body. It was a slightly schematized likeness of the battle going on that very moment, between the Federation vessel and the other three imperial ships. The hologram clearly showed the Federation vessel being surrounded, on all sides. The ship was fighting back gallantly, but it was too far outmatched, and was taking too much damage. Luke was surprised the federation ship was still functional. Vader did not turn to see what hologram showed, as though he already knew.

"Her fate is now intertwined with theirs, my son." He said. "It is hopeless."

"Hope, is never hopeless, father." Luke replied.

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

With Captain Solo at the controls, the Danube-class runabout, Yangtzee Kiang, successfully exited the massive station's docking bay, and began its climb up and out of the planetoid's equatorial trench. Solo let out a breath of relief, having made good their escape. Worf was sitting at the co-pilots seat, helping Solo navigate the small vessel. Han was having no difficultly at all in piloting the craft, and made sure not to show his gratitude for the Klingon's company, his actual appreciation, notwithstanding.

Data, Riker, and Troi, where in the ships aft compartment, which had been converted to a small common, and prep area for away missions.

"Can you reach him?" Riker asked Troi, his concern obvious. The Counselor only shook her head and squinted in exasperation, as though to say, I am trying.

The rear cabin was dimly lit to help the Counselor calm herself, and to… _find her way to Paul,_ as she'd put it. Troi was kneeling near the center of the dark room. Riker was hovering close to her, standing at the ready, should she require his help. He knew she wouldn't.

Data was in the rear corner of the compartment, causing a small commotion as he attempted to disconnect a piece of integrated machinery from an access panel at the back of the ship. It was enough of a disturbance to distract Commander Riker, but not near enough to pull Counselor Troi from her attempt to contact Paul. From the access panel, Data forced out a small, one-meter cubed box, with multiple power relay ports and ODN cabling jutting from each side. Not seeing what further help he could provide the Counselor, Riker left her side to check on Commander Data's progress.

"Do you think you can integrate it into the Falcon's systems?" Riker asked at just above a whisper.

"I truly hope so, Commander." Data responded. "Our own energy levels are far too low. And with the Enterprise on emergency backup power," he grimaced, "only the Millennium Falcon has the required capacity to power the device."

"Will we be able to track anything at that depth? Given the fact that we couldn't even communicate with the ship when we were in the core." Riker asked, pointing out what seemed an obvious flaw in the android's plan.

"If I may use a common human colloquialism, Commander" Data said. "We will have to traverse that conjoined roadway when we approach it."

Riker smiled, impressed with his friend's mild joke. He was about to say something, when Lt. Worf hailed him on the shuttle's internal com-system.

"Commander!" Worf barked.

"What is it, Worf?" Riker said, detecting the concern in his voice.

"You are needed here!" Was all the Klingon said.

Riker didn't respond. He only nodded to Data and the two went running towards the forward section, with Data stopping long enough to carefully put down the device he'd just yanked from the access panel. In seconds, they were in the ships command section. Captain Solo didn't turn his head, as he shouted at them…

"We've got company!"

Riker bent down to get a better view outside the window. What he saw shocked him to his core!

The Enterprise was being bombarded with one blow after another, taking fire from three of the four heavy Imperial cruisers they'd been tracking. His mind couldn't seem to process what his eyes were telling it. _How could they be here?_ Was all he could ask himself. He knew it was a question that would not be answered easily, not did it really matter. All that did matter was…they were here!

The Enterprise's shields had not failed yet, but Riker had been an officer long enough, and had seen enough engagements to know, their failure was imminent.

"How could they have made it this far?!" Riker shouted.

"Uncertain, Commander!" Worf shouted.

Just then, the shuttle was struck by a strafing blot of fire from one of the Destroyers. The single shot rocked the runabout, sending waves of heavy vibrations throughout the ship. Riker looked down, seeing that their own shields had just been depleted by over fifty percent!

"Evasive maneuvers!" Riker barked, but Han had already began expertly piloting the craft away from their position. Riker was impressed as he saw the man weaving in and out of multiple paths of fire. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be hit. They had to get back to the Enterprise…

…It was their only hope…

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

"Shields at _4%_ captain!" Ensign Jae screamed from her tactical station through a symphony of utter destruction.

The ship was being pummeled by wave after wave of powerful laser strikes, beating down every square inch of the Enterprise. The ship was a disaster. Terminal after terminal overloaded and exploded, sending cascading showers of sparks flying in all directions. The ship shook with such ferocity that the crew could feel the vibrations within their teeth!

"Evasive pattern Delta!" Picard Hollard through the commotion, though he doubted anyone could hear him through the roar of battle. "Mr. LeForge!" He yelled with all his might through the coms. No sooner did he get the words out, then was the ship was struck by another vicious and horrific round of fire from the closing Imperial Destroyers. "LeForge!"

"LeForge here, Captain!" Geordie shouted his reply over the coms.

"We need all the power you can give us, Commander!" Picard ordered. "Helm! … Set course, two...one..." But Lt. Commander LeForge interrupted the Captain, before he could continue.

"Captain…" LeForge struggled to say in between volleys of fire. "Captain. The Falcon's reactor core is overloaded…" He began, but his words were cut off by what sounded like an explosion of some kind on his end. After a moment, he resumed his report. "The mains are maxed out, Captain. I'm sorry. The ship just doesn't have any more to give!"

Picard stood almost before Geordie could finish his last words. The finality within them could not be denied. The Captain went numb, the shock that the end was now certain, was near paralyzing. Just then, the ship took another hit, rocking the bridge somehow more than any of the previous blows they'd received. It nearly knocked Picard to his knees.

"Captain…" Ensign Jae said, much softer than before. Her tone too had changed. It was, defeated…finished.

"What is it Ensign?" Picard said, his own tone milder now.

"Our shields are gone, sir."

Picard turned back to the viewscreen. An odd calmness settled over the bridge, and the crew, as they seemed to accept their fate. _There was a certain, serenity, in death._ Picard supposed.

The Captain took a step forward. Time seemed to slow, moving like molasses on a cold winters day. In the viewscreen, Picard watched as the nearest Destroyer lined itself up. The destroyer let loose a torpedo at the Enterprise. Through the calmness, it looked more like they gently dropped the thing at them, rather than fired the weapon at high speeds. Picard knew better, however. In slow motion, Picard watched the ball of plasma blaze through the thousands of kilometers, bringing to them their final payment to the universe. Spikes of light shot off from the torpedo as it neared, shooting through the cold radiation soaked vacuum of space.

In the interim, he looked away from the viewscreen, passing his gaze over each member of the crew, burning their faces into his memory, and giving each man and woman a moment alone with his thoughts. They were his crew after all. His responsibility. His family.

His eyes stopped at Wesley. Thoughts of the young man as a boy, and of his friendship with his father, invaded his mind. A contented smile crossed Picard's face as he returned his eyes to the viewer.

"It's been an honor…" He said in truth.

He didn't close his eyes, but watched as the torpedo closed in, crossing the last few hundred kilometers on its way to the Enterprise, a distance that he knew, would last only a few fleeting seconds. But before that time had elapsed, an alarm rang out! An alarm Picard knew well enough, _a proximity alarm? From another ship?_

"Captain!" Jae shouted. "A ship is decloaking off the port bow!"

"What…" Picard whispered as he stared out at the main viewer.

At that very moment, a full Romulan Warbird decloaked directly in front of the ship. The warbird shot strait up in front of the Enterprise at a perfect ninety degrees to the ship's plane of orientation, placing itself directly in the line of fire to the oncoming torpedo. Picard watching in stunned silence as the torpedo impacted dead center on the warbirds hull, the Romulan's shields apparently raising just in time to harmlessly absorb the powerful blow. Before Picard could gather his wits about himself, a familiar face projected itself onto the viewscreen.

"Very good to see you again, Captain Picard." Commander Tomalak gloated. "I see we've come an a most opportune time."

Picard was stunned at the sight of Commander Tomalak in the viewscreen. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to reason out the events that had just taken place. _How could the Romulans be here? This far into Galactic space?_ Picard desperately tried to work the problem. Then the answer came to him in a flash of the obvious. They'd been there all along, waiting, observing, hunting…hiding behind their cloaks. They were Romulans, after all.

Picard forced a smile, and tried to look as casually un-surprised as he could. "Thank you for your assistance, Commander Tomalak." He said.

"Oh…" Tomalak began. "I'm not alone, Captain."

Just then, three more proximity alarms rang out, identical to the first.

"Captain!" Wesley said. "Three warbirds, decloaking aft!"

Picard looked back to the viewscreen, but said nothing.

"Romulans, Captain, do not take kindly to invaders." Tomalak said, before nodding to an officer just out of view. He cut off his transmission soon after. Their attack on the Imperial ships it seemed, would begin imminently.

Picard turned to the Princess, before looking around the room. He could not help but let slip a grateful smile to all of them. After a moment, he turned back to the main viewer, watching with glee, as the nearest Destroyer turned to a full retreat from the four, fully-armed and powered, Romulan attack vessels. For the first time, Picard was glad for such a sight. His smile only grew, before addressing the Falcon…

"LeForge…" He said again. This time, in a calmer voice. "Get me as much power as you can. We're going to need it…"

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

Studying every movement of the ongoing battle, Luke intently watched the hologram projected by his trusty droid. The Federation Ship was still being pummeled by the three destroyers, and the only significant change that had occurred, had been the addition of a small ship-to-ship Federation transport vessel, making its way up from the surface of the artificial planetoid. Vader, his back still to Luke, continued to gaze out of the entry porthole, only half paying attention to the battle, that in his mind, was already won. No words were exchanged between the two of them. There was nothing left to say. The silence was deafening. It was so quiet, that Luke could have sworn that he could hear each explosion that slammed into the Federation's hull, the crackle of each blaster fire as it bounced off the ship's failing shields, even the nonexistent concussion waves, as they traveled through the nothingness of space, to his eardrums.

Showing in the hologram, Luke could see, for the first time, the Federation ship's designation markings. _The Enterprise_. Registration number _NCC-1701-D._ An appropriately titled Earth ship, to be sure. The Enterprise was taking a heavy beating. Luke knew that, had his father's Destroyers been at full capacity, the battle would have been over long before now. But as it was, with their batteries severely depleted, and their backups gone, _The Enterprise_ , it would seem, would have to endure a slow, agonizing death.

Luke watched expectantly, as one of the destroyers moved forward, unleashing a hailstorm of fire, raining down on the Enterprise. It was a move designed to eliminate her shields, and deliver the final blow. Somehow, Luke knew that wasn't how things were going to play out. As the destroyer got within firing distance, it launched a high yield proton torpedo at the Enterprise. Luke began ticking off the time in his mind, as the torpedo traversed the still vast distance that separated the two ships, knowing it would take only seconds. The torpedo was on target, with nothing to stop it. The Enterprise was defenseless. Luke looked down at the hologram, at the path of the torpedo as it closed in. It was going to hit…

But just then, as though seeing the event before it happened, Luke started! Vader too turned, and looked down at the hologram.

Both gawked in awe, as in the hologram, a ship materialized, seemingly from thin air, as though fulfilling some long-forgotten prophecy. The Romulan Warbird, decloaking just in front of the Enterprise, traveled up from its bilge, to its most upper deck, directly in front of the ship, and straight in the path of the torpedo. Luke let a small smirk grow on one side of his face only, as he looked up to his father. Vader simply stood there, motionless, with his massive arms crossed. After a moment, he circled around and behind his son. Luke continued to stare at the hologram, not turning to face Vader, as three more of the mythical Romulan Warbirds decloaked behind the Enterprise, and began an attack run on the three other Star Destroyers. Now was the time. But before he could signal Captain Piet, Luke heard the familiar, and expected sound of Vader's LightSaber as it hissed to life. But Luke did not turn. The air crackled, as his father's crimson blade sliced through the atmosphere of the bay. Luke did nothing. He just stood there, listening to the continuous electrified humming of the ancient weapon. He found the sound, almost calming. He took a breath, and found his center as he activated his commlink…

"Captain." Luke signaled softly, not waiting for a reply. "Begin your attack on the Imperial ships."

"Understood, my lord." Piet replied, before the coms cut out entirely.

The hologram dispersed. Luke no longer needed to know the outcome, as he had already foreseen it with the help of the voices.

 _The Force will be with you…always_. They said.

Luke reached out a hand towards R2. At the same moment, an object projected up from within his dome, out one of the blue triangular panels. It was the very same object that Luke had been building inside his meditation chamber. Luke grabbed the hilt of his LightSaber delivered to him by R2, and brought the weapon out at arm's length in front of his chest. When his other hand grasped the hilt, the saber ignited in a glorious burst of energy. Unlike Vader's red blade, the prescribed color of a Sith-Lord, Luke's saber shown in a brilliant emerald green.

"I see you've constructed a new LightSaber." Vader said, noting the almost laughable hue Luke had chosen. The color of the long-forgotten Jedi Consulars. Rage threatened to overwhelm Vader at his son's impudence. "But you are not a Jedi, yet." He threw the insult at Luke, before lunging at his son with his blood-red blade.

Luke raised his own saber, blocking the blow. The two blades collided with an explosion of energy. Sparks flew of both blades, as Vader pushed down on his, forcing it down towards his son. There would be no mercy for his young apprentice, this day.

The battle had begun…

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

 _The Spice must flow…_

Paul heard the voice in his head once more as he cautiously approached the enormous, building sized, cylindrical core at the very center of the massive power generator. He thought he recognized the bodiless voice, though it didn't really have a sound. It was…a feeling, an emotion he'd once felt, like when a scent sparks a vivid memory. Paul closed off his other senses, and focused only on the voice.

 _Paul…the spice is the key…_

He wished he knew what the voice wanted, but as it was, he couldn't make out any specifics. The voice wasn't really saying words, per say. It felt more like…an idea was being supplanted into his own thoughts by another party. Like one computer was trying to upload its software onto another, very similar computer, but ultimately one with a far too different mainframe. Only the most basic code could be understood. The rest was lost.

Paul walked to the core, placing his hand on the brushed stainless-steel surface. The metal was cold to the touch, like death. He ran his hand along the surface, sending out a small scrapping ring through the chilled air within the cavern. He looked around, seeing no detail on the core, which appeared to have been constructed out of a single piece of metal. There was, however, a small shaft that stuck out from the core's side. It was a small pipe-like projection that looked like it could retract back into the whole. With nothing else to inspect on the opened platform that surrounded the core, Paul walked to the projection. As he did, he felt the voice again.

 _The Spice!_ It said. _The Spice must flow…_ It nearly screamed.

Understanding was beginning to form within Paul's mind. He placed his hands on the, meter long, extruding cylinder. He closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind, trying to contact the voice. But he stopped dead when he realized…that he was no longer alone on the platform!

His eyes snapped open in a flash! Slowly, he turned, placing his back to the core.

Standing before him, in a line, were dozens upon endless dozens of the same mechanically enhanced monsters he'd faced in the factory, millennia ago. It was the Borg! Like a motionless wall of death, not one Borg moved…save one.

From the center of the hoard, a solitary drone stepped away from the rest. Waves of nauseating recognition washed over Paul, as he looked out on the thing that approached him. It was Duncan!

Duncan looked exactly as he did in the factory. That was, before he was ripped apart, torn into pieces by one of the worms that had come to life. This, more than anything else, told Paul that his one-time friend, had died long ago.

Duncan raised an arm, his non-mechanical arm, towards Paul, and took another step forward. "Welcome, home, Paul…" Duncan said.

Paul's mind, froze in fear. All his confidence left him in an instant. The voice he so desperately tried to contact, vanished into nothingness.

…Now, he was truly alone…


	21. Ep 4: Chapter 4

4

"Get to the Falcon!" Commander Riker shouted ahead to Data and Solo.

Riker was struggling to help Counselor Troi up after having fallen on her way out of the runabout. The away team had just completed their docking maneuvers, landing in the Enterprise's main shuttle bay. Data and Solo were running ahead, trying to make it to Captain Solo's ship as quickly as possible. Only the Millennium Falcon, now had the necessary power to accomplish what they had planned. But the two men turned back around the runabout, after hearing Troi stumble. Riker was shouting at them to continue ahead. He knew the planet below was running out of time, and there were too many lives at stake.

"We don't have time! Go!" Riker shouted again.

Reluctantly, both men followed the commander's wishes, but only after Lt. Worf also emerged from the freshly docked runabout, and began helping Riker with Troi. Data and Solo turned, and began running at full speed across the length of the dark and abandoned shuttle bay, to a cargo door at the others side. In Data's arms, was the device he'd so carefully disconnected from the runabout. He hoped that he could integrate it into the Millennium Falcon's systems in time.

The bay was a disaster. Signs of the recent battle were everywhere, bulkheads were strewn about the floor, exposed wiring shot out sparks of high voltage. The air was filled with noxious smoke from not having been recycled. Riker, now with the aid of Lt. Worf, helped Deanna to her feet, each man hooking an arm over their shoulder. Troi reeled in agony from the movement, but not from any physical injury, Riker knew. Her struggle was in her mind, and her attempts to connect with Paul. But despite the pain he caused her, Riker pushed forward. They needed to get to the bridge. The needed to inform the captain of their plan. And since the ships coms systems were down, they would have to do it in person.

Troi cried out again, forcing them to slow, but they not stop. Deanna was crying in pain, tears flowing down her cheeks. She nearly dragged them to a full stop. At this pace, Riker knew they weren't going to make it in time. He motioned to Worf, and the two gently placed her to the floor, leaning her back against a short wall of stacked hexagonal cargo containers, in the middle of the bay. Oddly enough, they appeared to be the only things in the bay still standing.

"Deanna!" Will said. "Deanna? Can you hear me?" But Troi did not answer. He held her by the shoulders, firmly. "Counselor Deanna Troi! Can you hear me." Still, nothing. Riker looked frustratingly to Worf. "You're going to have to go one without us." He said to the lieutenant.

"Commander!" Worf began his protest, but stopped himself, when he saw the resolution in Riker's eyes. He would not win this fight. He instead, looked down to the Counselor, Showing his own obvious and unhidden concern for the woman. "Will she be all right?"

"I wish I knew." Riker answered in truth. And he really didn't know. Despite having spent many years together, Riker had to admit his ignorance with many aspects of Troi's training, and her _Bene Gesserit_ ways. The witches were forever a mystery to him. Riker looked back up to Worf. "We don't have time for this. Millions of lives are at stake." He said. "Get to the bridge. We have to find a way to Paul. He has the spice. He's the only one that even stands a chance, at stopping that thing."

"And if we can't get through to him?"

As soon as he said it, Worf realized that his words were meaningless. They had to try. Worf frowned, and nodded to the Commander. He gave one final glaze to Counselor Troi, before himself bolting towards the cargo door, and making his way to the bridge. Riker gently laid Troi on her back, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. He didn't want to move her any more than he had too, as he knew that would disturb her attempts at making a connection with Paul. He Knelt on one knee besides her, and carefully placed her hand in his. He looked down to her.

"Deanna." He said softly. "Deanna, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere… Imzadi."

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

On the main bridge of the Enterprise, Picard looked to the viewscreen in utter amazement. It was a sight that surely no one had ever seen before. On the screen, the Romulan warbirds were in a vicious fight to the death with three Star Destroyers. And they were fighting right alongside the fourth! A rebelling Imperial ship! The two sides, Romulan and defecting destroyer, appeared to be working together in the fight, cooperating either by pure necessity, or by designed communication. With one, Picard did not know, not with the Enterprise's ship to ship communications malfunctioning.

And their coms where not the only system offline. Thrusters were down. Their shields were gone. The Impulse engines had been shut down since the pulse they had used to knock out the attacking waves of TIE Fighters, and they no longer had the power to restart them. Picard wasn't even sure what the status of their life support systems were, as their internal sensors were also malfunctioning. The Captain had high hopes that LeForge, now that he was making his way back to main engineering, would be able to affect some fast repairs to his ship, but he had now way of knowing if he had even made it back.

Geordie had successfully managed to stabilize the Millennium Falcon's primary power generator, but the leads that fed the Enterprise were completely fused. The Falcon could no longer provide power to Picard's weary ship. They were, by all accounts, a derelict, completely helpless should one of the attacking Imperial vessels break off their attack from the fight, and head their direction.

Picard sat at the edge of his command chair, and watched the battle with baited breath. There was nothing he could do. There were no commands to give. No battle tactics to review or approve. No damage reports to scrutinize. He was helpless. As worthless as a Ferengi at a business ethnics lecture. But yet, he couldn't look away, as though his undivided attention alone, would somehow determine the outcome of the battle.

He watched, seeing the three Imperial ships forming themselves into a line, with just the right amount of distance between them to force the Romulans and defecting destroyer to spread out their offensive. It was a gallant effort, but Picard knew, ultimately, a futile one. He didn't need sensors to see that the Imperial ships were fighting with reserve power only. He'd suspected as much, with their own reserves as depleted as they were. The destroyers were going to lose. But they were still deadly.

Picard inched further forward, nearly perching himself at the edge of his seat. The Romulan ships were focused mainly on the two destroyers at one end of the line, with the defecting Imperial ship exchanging fire with the destroyer at the other end. The two mammoth Star Destroyers threw everything they had at each other, each trying to pound the other into submission. But the defector had one advantage. It had held back its fighters from attacking the Enterprise, and those fighters were now swarming around its opponent, beating down what little remained of her shields. It was only a matter of time now. Picard turned his attention to the Romulan side of the engagement, at the other end of the line.

The Romulan's were clearly winning. All four warbirds where focusing their fire on the Star Destroyer furthest down the line. Suddenly, in a brilliant flash, the destroyer went up in a huge fireball of sparks and flame. The billowing cloud of ignited debris spread out, then dissipated into nothingness, leaving almost no trace that the destroyer had ever existed at all. Picard was stunned. He couldn't believe that he'd just witnessed the end of one of the Empire's most powerful vessels. But there were still two more, and each of which was more than capable of destroying his own helpless ship.

He looked back to the other side of the screen, to the battle between the two destroyers. As expected, the hostile Imperial ship's shields were failing, but did not relent in its attack. In one massive exchange, the imperial ship threw everything it had at the defector. The _friendly_ Star Destroyer took a nasty hit to its keel, at a large depression where, if Picard's memory served, was the ships main docking bay. The defecting ship pushed back however, and her fighters redoubled their efforts on the attack. Soon the Imperial ship was reduced to little more than a smoldering pile, flames shooting out into the cold dead of space at seemingly every opening. The fighters, and the defecting destroyer, began to pull back, as the hostile Imperial ship's reactor began to go critical. Like the first, it too went up in a glorious explosion. Sparks showered the immediate area. Clouds of the ships internal atmosphere spilled out, set aflame by the explosion.

Picard let a smile grow on his face at the sight. But the smile vanished in an instant. The captain bolted out of his seat! The two explosions, and the resulting distraction they caused, had opened a hole in the Romulan line, a gap big enough for the destroyer in the center to slip through. And there was only one way for the Imperial ship to go.

Straight towards the Enterprise!

Picard walked slowly to the center of the bridge, never taking his eyes off the approaching ship.

"Ensign," he whispered. "status of the shields?"

"Nothing, sir. Our shields are gone…"

The Captain's face went cold and dead. But still, he did not turn away…

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

Blocking another powerful thrust from Vader's lightsaber, Luke recovered and returned with a strike of his own. It too, was deflected with ease, just like each parry before.

Through the Nemesis' main shuttle bay, father and son fought, trading blows from their deadly weapons as they crossed directly in front of the compartments main entry porthole. A scene of battle raged outside, as Luke's ship exchanged weapons fire with the closest of Vader's destroyers. They were all rebels now!

Vader lunged at his son, but Luke deflected the attack, slapping his father's blade harmlessly to the side. Each time the two weapons made contact, the room lit up with a brilliant flash of released energy. The air crackled and hummed with the focused might of their swords. Vader lifted his saber for another advance on his young apprentice, but Luke was faster. He beat his father to the punch, leaping towards Vader, aiming directly towards his master's heart. He almost hit it too, but just before his blade touched Vader's black armor, the Sith lord was able to bring down his saber, blocking his son's blade, just in time.

By all accounts, the two were equally matched, with neither having a significant advantage in skill or strength. And for what felt like the first time in his life, Luke was just as determined as his father. He would not relent. But nor would Vader.

Luke lunged again, putting all of his energy into the strike, expecting to hit either Vader's blade, or Vader himself. But the dark Lord of the Sith had different plans. He placed his laser sword to his side, and held out his hand. Vader let loose a focused wall of energy towards his son. The power collided into Luke's young body, and sent him flying across the compartment, slamming into Vader's docked shuttle. Luke slid down the craft, landing with a hard thud on the glossy black floor of the bay, between the ships rear landing struts. Luke was disoriented at first, but recovered quickly and scrambled to his feet. He looked around for his lightsaber, but the weapon was nowhere to be found! He darted around, desperately searching for his Lightsaber, but ultimately, he came up empty. Luke's eyes dashed up to his father!

Vader's silhouette stood in stark contrast to the plain gun-metal wall of the shuttle bay, the blazing beam of his blood-red blade, casting out an evil glow. Vader slowly approached Luke, who was now defenseless.

"It is pointless to resist, my son." Vader hissed. But Luke only responded with a look of pure defiance.

Luke readied himself for the final attack. He would not go down without a fight. But Vader never got the chance. Before he was able to strike out at his son, the ship was rocked with a heavy with a blast somewhere to port. Everything in the compartment was thrown starboard, including Luke. Vader steadied himself against a small railing a few paces away, and when the concussion wave passed, he looked up. Luke was gone! Just then, the internal lighting in the compartment failed. Darkness encroached upon the bay as the ship switched to its dim emergency back-up lighting. Vader paused, took in a heavy breath from his respirator, before seeking out his son in the darkness.

Vader could still sense his son's presence. Luke was still near. He would not be able to hide forever. He called out to him as he searched. "The Rebels are weak." He said as he bent over a pile of fallen cargo containers, finding nothing. "As are their Federation friends." Vader ducked under the shuttle, but Luke remained silent…and uncaught. "Surly you must see the futility of your choices, my son. The lack of reason in your judgment." He taunted. Still Luke said nothing.

Eventually, Vader made his way under a raised catwalk near the rear of the shuttle bay. The ominous red glow of his lightsaber cut through the shadows, casting the support beams of the elevated walkway, in a hot crimson hue. As he passed each beam, he turned his head from side to side. Luke was running out of places he could hide.

"You have felt it…haven't you?" Vader said to the shadows. "Your sister. She has taken the spice! She has become strong." Vader felt a spike of emotions from his son at the mentioning of Leia. He pushed forward. "You were right to keep her from me. To take your place at my side, and spare her." Vader crept forward, slowly. "Even now, I can feel her strength growing. She has indeed become powerful. In time, she will learn to control it." Vader bent over a support beam. "If you will not be turned…then perhaps, she. will…"

"Never!" Luke screamed as he exited an unseen shadow, his emerald saber already drawn. He dove for Vader, unleashing all of his hate. All of his pent up anger. All of his rage! It flowed through him like water. He lunged forward with all his power, sparing nothing, flailing his saber from side to side and forcing Vader out from under the catwalk, into the opening of the bay. Luke continued his assault, never relenting, never backing down. Strike after strike, blow after blow. At each collision between blades, Luke pulled back, and swung around for another attack. Vader was in full retreat, moving his own blade in a blur of motion, just to fend off Luke's advance. He was giving up ground too fast, and soon, the pair found themselves in front of the main entry porthole at the front of the bay once more. In the background, Luke could hear the heavy laser blasts and screams of Tie Fighter engines from the battle raging outside. But nothing could distract him now. He slammed his saber down onto Vader's. In a relentless assault, Luke wailed his blade from side to side, allowing no opening for Vader to counter. Backing up, Vader fell to his knees. He brought his saber up across his body, protecting himself against his son. Luke beat down on his father's lightsaber with his own; over, and over, and over.

He had become wrath. Rage incarnate!

After the last hit, Luke reversed his blade and swung under Vader's. He thrust his weapon up, slicing through his father's mechanical hand, and sending Vader's weapon flying across the room. In a daze of anger, Luke stood over his beaten father. Luke inhaled gulps of air. Sweat gushed out of every pore from the effort. But he had won! He could strike Vader down whenever he wished, and rid the universe of his father's treachery forever. No one could stop him. Not the Emperor. Not the Senate. Not the Federation, or the Rebel Alliance! No one! Finally, he could fulfill his own destiny. In that movement, he could have done anything…

But then, from a distant corner of his mind, came the voices…

 _Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny…_

Luke looked down at his father, helpless and weak. Luke's anger vanished in a flash. It left him so fast, it was almost painful. Revelation filled his soul. He didn't need to kill Vader, he'd already beaten him. He'd already destroyed him. With his thoughts rid of the hate, the fear, and the rage, Luke gained a clarity only available to his unclouded mind. Understanding flooded through him like a torrent of truth. It was then, that he knew. The Jedi had never left. They had always been there.

Luke sheathed his saber, and discarded his weapon in a symbolic gesture that said… _I will not fight you, father._ Standing strong over Vader's defeated body, Luke relaxed his own. His confusion was gone. He knew what he was now…

The Jedi, had returned…

In peace, Luke reached a hand out to his father. Vader looked up, surprised and confused by the gesture. He did not reach out at first, but did consider it. But before he even had the chance, the ship took another, much more massive, hit to its underside. The shuttle bay exploded in a huge fireball, sending Vader and Luke flying in opposite directions.

In midflight, Luke lost his orientation. His body slammed hard onto the metal railing of the catwalk, all the way at the back of the compartment. The impact left his head spinning wildly. His ears rung from the explosion. Everything hurt. Still, he somehow managed to find a way up, if only to his knees.

"Beep…beep..beep.. .beep…boop!" R2 toned as he rolled up next to Luke.

Luke rubbed the pain from his head as he looked up, pleasantly surprised to see that his droid friend had survived. He placed his hand on R2's domed top, and pulled himself to his feet. Once there, he grabbed the handrail of the catwalk and gazed out onto the rest of the shuttle bay. He was shocked at what he found. There was no shuttle bay! The blast had carved out a mighty section of the ship, and left the entire front section of the bay opened to space! An emergency forcefield had been erected around the opening, no doubt activated just in time to keep Luke from being blown out, along with just about everything else in the compartment.

 _Father!_ Luke thought to himself as he looked about. But it only took a short, cursory glance to know that Vader was no longer there. His father, along with his shuttle, was gone! Luke took a breath, not knowing if he had survived. But something within him told Luke, that he had not seen the last of Darth Vader!

A flash of light lit up the carved out opening. Luke Looked up, seeing the opposing destroyer go up in a magnificent display of light and fire. He had to hold his hand up to shield his face from the radiance of the explosion. When it was over, Luke let his hand down. He looked over the short handrail, to the exact spot where Vader had been only moments before. He took a breath, and shook off a near overwhelming desire to see his father again. Not Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, but Anakin Skywalker, his true father. A man he had never met.

"My lord!" Came the excited voice of Captain Piett over the coms. "Master Skywalker! Are you their sir!"

"Go ahead, Captain." Luke responded in haste.

"Very good to hear your voice, my lord." Piett said. "We feared the worse. Are you…alone, sir?" Piet asked.

Luke once again looked out to where Vader had been. He wasn't sure how to answer. He settled on. "Yes, Captain. I am alone." It was all he was willing to say on the matter. "What ship was that?" Luke asked, changing the subject.

"The Devastator, my lord." Piet answered. "Lord Vader's ship." Captain Piet continued before Luke had a chance to say anything. "My Lord, we could use your help on the bridge?"

"I'm on my way." He said as he began making his way out of what remained of the shuttle bay. Luke moved quickly, not wanting to be inside, should the forcefield collapse. He'd nearly come to the exit when Piet's voice came back over the coms.

"My lord. The last remaining ship has broken through the line! It's the Titan sir! They're headed directly for the Federation vessel!" Piet reported hurriedly. "The Romulans are in pursuit." He said. "Shall we aid them?"

Luke stopped dead in his tracks. He thought of his sister, but also for the lives of the crew of the Titan. He found himself hesitant in giving the order to end them. It was not their choice to follow orders. Still, Luke had no other option.

"Destroy them, Captain." Luke growled. "Protect the Federation vessel." He said. "Protect…her." Luke finished just above a whisper, knowing that Piet could not have heard the last part. Luke quickened his pace towards the bridge.

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

"Sir, the final hostile has been eliminated." Ensign Jae said from tactical.

Picard turned, and nodded. He couldn't believe what had just happened. The last attacking Imperial ship had been bearing down on the defenseless Enterprise. Their destruction seemed unavoidable. But just before the Enterprise fell into the approaching ship's weapons range, all four Romulan warbirds, along with the defecting Star Destroyer, pounced on the Imperial vessel, unleashing a hailstorm of fire that dissected the final destroyer in to two clean halves. Their reactor exploded moments later.

"Captain, our shields are coming back on line!" Jae said in near disbelief. "Very low power." She looked down at her console. "2 percent…3…4." She looked up. "Holding at four percent, sir."

Picard inhaled a quick breath of air into his lungs, and nodded.

"Captain." Ops said. Picard turned to Ensign Rager, sitting at the ops Console. "I'm getting intermittent power spikes throughout the ship. Some minor systems are coming back on line." She said as he tapped commands into her terminal. "Life support. Environmental controls. Shields. Even turbo lifts." Rager looked up to the Captain, who was now standing directly over her. "And Communications, Captain!"

Picard smiled. "Geordie!" He said as he turned back around, giving the Princess, who was still sitting in the seat next to his, a look of satisfaction. He walked to the center of the bridge, and addressed Ensign Jae. "Hail them."

"Aye, sir." Jae said confused. "Who sir?"

"Both." Picard said as he looked directly towards the main viewer. Jae swiftly went about sending out an all ships hail. Picard heard the confirmation tone, signaling that one of the ships was returning their hail. The Captain looked sternly to the screen. Somehow, he knew who it was that was going to answer. He hid a distasteful smirk, when Tomalak's face snapped on the screen.

"We are in your debt, Commander Tomalak." Picard began the conversation diplomatically.

"Please, Captain Picard." Tomalak sneered. "Think nothing of it. Consider it an act of, Romulan…charity." He smiled down at Picard. Picard only nodded and smiled in return, not wanting to lose the progress they'd made with pointless posturing.

"Captain." Ensign Jae said. "I have the Imperial ship on the line."

"Conference the Imperial ship in, Ensign." Picard said.

A view of the interior of what was clearly the Star Destroyer's command deck came up on the left side of the screen. Tomalak's image remained on the right. The destroyer's bridge appeared empty, at least, at first. No officer, or commander was framed in the screen. Picard squinted, as if doing so would somehow force someone to appear. Prophetically, a young man with brow length sandy-blonde hair came on the screen. He was wearing all black, and had an air of power about him that Picard could easily detect. But it was when the young man looked up, when Picard saw his eyes, that he fully understood. There, he saw the deep blue-in-blue gems of a full Sith-Master. Picard addressed the Sith, in proper.

"May I convey our gratitude, Lord, Lord…"

"Luke!" Leia shouted as she bolted off her chair and made her way to the very center of the bridge. Almost knocking the captain over on her way to the viewscreen. Leia's eyes, every bit the deep blue shade of her brother's, shown with wonder at seeing Luke for the first time in years.

"Leia." Luke returned the smile. "It's good to see you too…sister."

Tomalak looked confused and frustrated on his end of the screen. He interjected into the conversation. "Sister?" He said exasperatingly. "Excuse me, Captain, but what exactly is going on here?"

"Quite right, commander!" Picard said, as though the Romulan's words had resurrected the core problem. The captain walked up behind Princess Leia. "Excuse me, your highness." He said, gently persuading her to the side so he might have the spotlight. Once there, he addressed both commanders at the same time. "I'm sure you're both aware of the energy buildup within the core of the massive station below." Picard said.

"It's rather hard to miss, Captain Picard." Tomalak said sardonically. "We believe it to be a weapon of some kind."

"Aimed at the planet." Picard clarified.

"Have you a way to destroy the station, Captain Picard?" Luke asked from his side of the viewscreen.

"Destroy it!" Tomalak said incredulously. "Have you seen the size of that thing! It would take thousand ships, with more firepower than…" Tomalak stopped midsentence. "It can't be done!"

"We can't just sit here and do nothing, while millions of innocent lives are sacrificed." Luke replied to Tomalak's lack of enthusiasm at their chances. Though he could sense that the Romulan really did wish to help, he just couldn't fathom a way in which he could. "There must be a way. A weakness of some kind." Luke finished.

Just then, the turbo lift doors at the back of the bridge hissed open. Every head on the bridge turned to see who was inside. Picard let out an unhindered grin of pure joy and amazement, as Lt. Worf stepped out. Worf looked at the Captain, and nodded. In that one gesture, without a single word uttered, Picard could see that Worf held the answer to their problem. He wanted to know everything that had happened down on the station, and how they might stop it. But the details would have to wait. He twisted back to the main viewer.

"Are you finished helping us Tomalak?" Picard asked.

Tomalak gave the captain a maddening look, and rolled his eyes. "Will the Romulans ever be finished helping you humans?" He said, sarcastic and spiteful, at the same time.

Picard returned the insult, with a smile.

"I certainly hope not, Commander." He said.

... ... ... ...

* * *

... ... ... ...

"They are not worthy of life." Duncan said as Paul stood frozen in fear, and stunned in horror.

It was still so odd for Paul, hearing the familiar sound of his friend and mentor's voice, but knowing that whatever it was that made up the real Duncan, had been dead for centuries. He hated that it had to be Duncan, the man he'd looked up to, admired, perhaps even hoped to surpass someday. He was the closest thing he had left to a father in the world he knew. Life had cheated him out of his own, and now, had taken another from him.

Memories of his family came flooding back to Paul for the first time since awakening in the Enterprise's sick bay. Thoughts of his father, his mother, and his little sister Alia, projected themselves into his mind's eye. Even his crusty old grandfather, Vladimir, came to him. He missed them all…

But it was not in the way that other people missed their loved ones, Paul suspected. Even in life, he had always felt apart from them, from everyone. He was a foreigner to such thoughts, an objective observer to life, not an active participant. He always hated that part of himself, his inability to connect, to feel; to take sides, and form comradery with others. He was not the one to plead the case for the sake of others. He was the judge, uncaring, unbiased. Alone. He was the outsider.

And now this outsider wanted answers.

"Why am I here?" Paul shouted the question that most burned in his mind. But Duncan did not answer. The machine that was once his friend only looked at him, as though confused. "Why me?" He shouted again, this time more forcefully. Still, Duncan said nothing. Paul took a step forward, away from the small cylinder that extruded from the larger core. "What am I doing here!?"

Paul's words echoed violently throughout the opened cavity of the vast, city-sized, power core. His words bounced off the distant walls until they vanished into nothingness. He and Duncan just stared at each other, in silence. Paul didn't bother to say anything further. There was nothing else for him to say. He looked pathetically at Duncan, begging the thing for an answer.

Duncan took a small step forward, away from the other Borg. He looked inquisitively towards Paul. "You are here to help us." Duncan said.

Paul looked up in a look just shy of wonderment. "Help you how?" Paul said.

Duncan paused…

"To help us kill them." It said.

"You are here to help us kill them…All!"


	22. Ep 4: Chapter 5

5

 _Paul…_ The voice came once more. _The spice. You must use the spice…_

Paul no longer had any doubt as to who's voice it was _._ They were Troi's thoughts he was, _hearing_. He remembered how she had _interrogated_ his mind back on the Enterprise. He could still feel the connection left by that intrusion. Both she, and Lt. Commander Data, had questions for Paul. Questions about the origin of the giant, solar-system-sized, sphere they had found, and how he had come to orbit the massive object. Questions he could not answer at the time, but was intent now on discovering them now.

 _Paul, the spice must flow._ Troi's thoughts screamed into his own. But they still felt distant and weak.

 _What the hell is Spice!_ Paul begged for the answer, reaching out with his own mind, but finding that it was like trying to see forms in a fog. The harder he tried to focus, the more the thoughts slipped away.

He took a breath to calm himself, standing with his back to the station's huge, building-sized, cylindrical power core. Paul felt small standing next to tall, featureless core, which appeared to be formed out of a single piece of brushed stainless steel. He knew that the core was tiny when compared to the vastness of the cavernous opening the power core was centered in, which Paul thought was easily large enough to fit a small city.

The core itself was completely wrapped by a wide, single-level, platform with no railing. And on that platform, surrounding Paul, were dozens upon dozens of Borg bodies, standing in a perimeter that encircled the core. The Borg did not advance on him, but where preventing Paul from escaping back down the narrow catwalk that led to the turbo lift, and up to the surface. His onetime friend, Duncan Idaho, stood directly before Paul, a few paces in front of the rest of the hoard. Duncan said nothing, nor did the rest of them. Nor did Paul, at first. Paul looked down to his right, to the small extruding cylinder that stuck out a few feet from the larger core. The cylinder had an open top, with an apparatus that looked like it was designed to accept some form of liquid. It was clear to Paul, that this was how more fuel was added to the core. But beyond that, however, he was clueless as to how it operated.

But each time he looked down to the small induction cylinder, Paul felt two unmistakable feelings. First, there was a near overwhelming desire from the voice for him to get closer to it. And second, a desperate, almost frantic need coming from the Borg for him to get away!

For now, Paul looked away from the cylinder, and took a small step towards Duncan. He needed answers before anything else. Paul felt an odd calmness coming from the Borg as he left the cylinder.

"What do you want from me?" He demanded. "Why did you take me from Earth?"

It had become clear to him, that it was the Borg that had built the gigantic sphere, a thousand times larger than a star. And it was them that had constructed the moon-sized space station they were currently inside. He tried piecing together the rest of the events that had brought him here.

He guessed that not long after the events that had taken place at the factory, where he'd first encountered the worms, and the Borg, they had all left Earth, himself included. Soon after, the world had become embroiled in a war that had spanned all nations, and left the planet in ruin. The Borg crossed the distance of space, holding up in a hidden corner of the universe, secretly building the huge Dyson's sphere for some, still unknown, reason. Once completed, they placed Paul's worm-protected body in orbit. He felt that understood the how, but was completely ignorant of the why…

"Why am I here?" Paul demanded.

Before answering, Duncan paused, as though thinking about his response. But Paul also thought that Idaho looked like he was communicating with the others somehow. It was becoming more and more clear to him, that the Borg where connected in some way. They were many minds acting as one. Duncan took a step forward. He spoke to Paul in a heavily synthesized, and menacing voice…

"It was not you that we needed, only what you have brought us." Duncan said. But Paul still did not understand.

"And this place?" Paul asked. He waved his arms out towards the opened cavity of the power core. "What is all of this, for?"

Again, Duncan paused before answering, communing with the others, and only answering once consensus had been achieved. "It is our caravan." Duncan said. His words were robotic and unemotional. Completely non-human.

Paul winced in confusion at the meaning of Duncan's words, but moved on. "And the larger sphere around it?" He asked.

"The caravan is no longer inside the artificial singularity." Duncan responded. "We are in high orbit around a small planet, five thousand light-years from our previous position."

Paul started! He looked at his old friend, his thoughts muddled. _Five thousand light-years!_ "How,' he said, 'I felt no movement?"

"The caravan did not move. The planet came to us." Duncan said.

 _Traveling without moving_ …Paul whispered to himself. _Folding space?_ He shuttered at the implication of such an advancement.

"And you mean to eradicate them?" Paul asked. "Humanity?"

"For new life to flourish, all hostile species must first be cleared away." Duncan replied, uncaring.

"Hostile species?" Paul asked in wonderment. "Humans?" But Duncan said nothing. The answer was obvious. They viewed humanity as a plague, and they intended to wash the universe clean of its pestilence. Paul took a step forward. He had heard enough. "I refuse!" He stated emphatically.

Duncan looked at Paul, confused. It was as though Paul's words were said out of place, and were now meaningless. Duncan shook his head slowly from side to side, and raised his hand, pointing to Paul, to the small backpack he had _borrowed_ from the security guard back in his cell. He now wore the backpack, along with the guard's golden uniform, which he much preferred to the ridiculous blue leotard they had clothed him in, once he awakened.

Paul reached around with his left arm, and slid out from the straps of the backpack. There was only one thing inside. The backpack held the container of blue liquid that the Enterprise crew had extracted from Paul's blood. The very same blue liquid that he had ingested back in the factory, centuries before. He pulled out the container, discarding the small rucksack to the side. Once he did, he held the metal-reinforced glass container out in front of him.

Duncan stared at the thing with wanting desire. Not Even the many layers of cybernetic devices implanted throughout Duncan's body, could mask it. Without thought, Paul grabbed the top of the container and twisted off the cap, removing the smaller inner glass vial from its outer, metal reinforcement. He dropped the metal part to the floor, sending a ringing sound echoing throughout the cavern. Paul lifted the vial up to his eyes, studying the blue liquid inside. _This was what they wanted._ Paul thought to himself. _It was what they all wanted._

 _This was the spice!_

Duncan took another very small step forward. Somehow, the monster that his friend had become vanished before Paul's eyes. The man he once knew, his old mentor and father-figure, emerged. "Paul,' Duncan said, 'humanity is a curse. They are an error of evolution."

Paul was shocked to see that it was truly Duncan that spoke, not the Borg they'd turned him into. The man was still there, inside the monster, and he was helping them. Paul saw Duncan for what he had become. An agent of evil.

Anger roiled through Paul. Duncan had chosen his path. And it made him sick to his stomach. Yet, he could not look away.

"You've seen what they are." Duncan continued. "You've seen their wars, the misery they've caused. The hate they've spread to the stars." A smile crossed the necrotized flesh of Duncan's face. It almost made him look human…almost. "Have they changed? Have the intervening centuries taught them, anything?" Duncan said. "They still fight amongst themselves for their own selfish ambitions. They chose avarice over morality, lust over compassion; hate over love. They are a cancer, a malignancy on the universe. We must cut the tumor out before it spreads. Before they destroy everything." Idaho's words were pleading. To Duncan, they were truth. "Help us, Paul." He said. "Give us the spice."

Paul's eyes darted back and forth between Duncan; the vial he held in his hand; and the induction cylinder to his left. He took a step back, putting his back to the cold metal steel of the core. All Borg, except Duncan, took an equal step forward. Duncan looked to Paul, displaying patience with his one-time apprentice.

Paul looked down to the induction cylinder. The voice came pounding back to him. Stronger than it had been before.

 _Balance, Paul_ … the voice said. _You must disrupt the balance._ _The spice must flow. You must…Paul,_ the voice despaired. _You must do it. I'm so sorry…_

Paul could hear the sorrow in the voice, the reluctance in its demand. He could feel Troi's pain. He held out the vial, lifting it again to his eyeline, holding it firmly between his thumb and forefinger. In his own time; in his own mind, he ran the problem, ignoring all but his own thoughts.

If there was one thing that Paul understood more than most, it was truth. He'd searched for it in everything he did. For him, truth had its own life, its own reality. It could not be altered, or erased, and once he had uncovered a truth, it could not be forgotten.

He knew others did not see things in this way. A truth to them was mutable to the situation. It could be ignored, masked, acknowledged, changed, and forgotten; all in the same instant. But not so for Paul. Truth was his bedrock. He could not deny it, even if he wanted to.

And there was an undeniable truth to the case presented before him. Throughout its history, humanity seemed only to spread hate, and war. Death and destruction. And that truth seemed just as obvious now, as it was in his time. But, not all truths were so, one-dimensional. He knew he had to look deeper…

In a flash, without prompt or warning, the biblical story of Lot came crashing into his thoughts. The very same story that had caused him such consternation the night he encountered the Borg for the first time, fifteen centuries before. He thought on that story now; this time, placing himself in the narrative, focusing not on Lot and his misguided attempt to save God's agents by sacrificing his daughters' virtue, but on the angels God had sent. Like a torrent, understanding washed over Paul. He'd had it wrong this whole time. The story wasn't about Lot. It wasn't about God's mercy on mankind. And it wasn't about the daughters…

It was about the angels.

In their eyes, the inhabitants of Sodom must have looked like demons, not at all unlike the Borg that surrounded Paul now. Which, despite how they looked, where no less human than he. No less human then those of the Federation, or the Empire. Traveling through the sinful cities of that ancient past, God's angels saw humanity at their worst, and through all that brutality, through all that hate, through all that sin, they saw the glimmer of hope Lot's actions presented, as misguided as they were. The story was not about how horrible mankind had become, but the potential they held within them. In their darkest hour, the angels choose to see man, not as he was, but as what he might one day become. They chose hope.

With a fleeting remnant of the prescient sight, Paul saw the path laid out before him. A golden path of possibility for the human race. With the fortitude of the citizens of the Old Galactic Republic, reinforced with the naturally evolved morality of the humans that helped form the United Federation of Planets. Paul saw within them all, great promise. All they needed was the chance.

And he would grant him that chance…

A small smile grew across his face. With renewed vigor, Paul pushed outward with his mind, following the lines of connection to Troi's thoughts. He pulled her thoughts into his own, bringing with them a full understanding of what he must do to destroy the station. He felt no remorse or hesitation in what that would require of him. Though through his connection with Troi, he could feel that she did.

The Borg within Duncan could sense the change too. He knew Paul had made his choice, and it was not with him. Idaho looked back to the Borg hoard. In that same instant, the drones began advancing on Paul. But their efforts would prove wasted. With an unimaginable might, Paul raised his hand out to the Borg, throwing at them a concentrated wall of invisible energy and stopping them dead in their tracks. A shell of pure force surrounded and protected Paul. The Borg where helpless. They would not be able to reach him in time.

Paul raised the small vial of spice up with his free hand, and with his thumb, popped off the container's topper. His eyes sneered at Idaho as he brought his arm around, hovering the vial directly over the induction cylinder. Duncan pushed against the wall of force in vain. He screamed at Paul…

"Paul, you would do this? You would sacrifice yourself for them? Why. What have they done to merit such mercy. What part of their past justifies their continued existence?"

Paul looked up to Duncan in true surprise. He couldn't understand how it was that he was so blind to the truth.

"Not their past." Paul said as he tipped over the vial. "For their future."

Paul's words left his mouth in the same moment as the spice poured out of the vial, flowing perfectly into the accepting apparatus inside the cylinder. His eyes never left Duncan's. Paul could see Duncan screaming in protest, pounding is fists in anger against the impenetrable wall of energy he'd erected, but he could not hear him. Paul had cut himself off from the world. A fulfilled smile crossed his lips as he dropped the small glass ampule to the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces. His right hand was still raised, holding off the Borg in their relentless and futile attempts to penetrate and overcome his power. Paul raised his left hand to about the height of his hip, and with an open fist, forced the induction cylinder back into the core without touching it.

In almost that same instant, Paul felt the intensity of the chain reaction building inside the core. If felt like bottled rage! He felt a near unbearable heat broiling the skin on his back as unhindered radiation shot out from the overload. The platform shook with such power that Paul feared it would soon break off, sending him and all the Borg, tumbling to their deaths. Streamers of light blazed out of the core as the thick metal began failing and cracking under the tremendous pressure.

But Paul did not turn to see the calamity. Doing so would have robbed him of the glorious sight of seeing Duncan and the rest of the Borg, succumbing to the absolute terror they felt. The fear was smeared on their faces. It was a fitting final sight, he thought, as Paul closed his eyes, and waited for the inevitable.

Finally, he was contented…

…Finally, he was happy…


	23. Ep 4: Chapter 6

6

Captain Solo watched wide-eyed, the billowing plumes of molten hot plasma as they dance and roll over each other, forming themselves into a ball directly in front of the Millennium Falcon. The orange hot ball of ionized gas, plunged itself into the depths of the giant moon-sized space station, vaporizing countless tons of refined metals, and carving a perfect tunnel to the core of the planetoid. They were headed directly to the same massive inner chamber where he and the rest of the Federation away team had first encountered the Borg! Han wasn't sure what scared him more, flying just a few hundred meters behind this boiling wall of death, or the thought of what might be waiting for them when they arrive at their destination. Han clinched his jaw at the memory, and refocused his efforts on maintaining the proper distance away from the cutting beams just in front of his ship.

To help the Falcon reach the station's main reactor in as little time as possible, Captain Picard had somehow managed to elicit the help of the four Romulan vessels, and the defecting Imperial Destroyer. Using all their reserve power, each ship focused their weapons on a single point, carving a perfect path through the meat of the massive station like a laser scalpel. Without a moment to waste, the Falcon trailed just behind the incision point of the cutting beams, as they made their way back to the core. Paul Atreides, the very man that had helped the away team escape from the clutches of the Borg, was hopefully still there, in the reactor core, with the spice. And they desperately needed that spice to stop the station from obliterating the princess' adoptive home of Alderaan. It would seem their only way.

Han's grip tightened on the Falcon's control yoke, fortitude oozed from his pores. He would not allow that to happen. Not to her!

Unconsciously, Han increased his speed. His attention slipped as thoughts of Leia invaded his mind, allowing the Falcon to get just a little too close to the incision point. The ship shook suddenly as the Falcon's most forward bulkheads began to buckle under the heat.

"ROUUUGHH- AWW-Raw-Ra." Chewy Hollard at Han to pay attention!

"We're fine!" Han replied angrily. "I've got it under control!"

"Is everything all right, Captain Solo?" Commander Data said, sitting behind Chewbacca. Data momentarily looked away from his navigational readout. "May I remind you that given the intensity of the beam, it would completely vaporize your ship, and the three of us, in a mere fraction of a second."

"I said I'm fine, dammit!" Han shouted back at the Federation droid. He backed the ship away from the beam, but not too far back. Time was precious, as the station's main weapon appeared to be nearing full power. The planet below had only minutes. At best! "Chewy, increase the power to the forward deflector screen!" Han ordered, changing the subject. He looked back to Data. "That Federation doodad of yours had better work!"

"The device is fully functioning Captain. The question is, will your ship's antiquated systems allow for the device's integration." Data replied.

Han shook his head at what he took to be a derogatory comment about the age of his ship, and returned to his controls without another word. Data, innocently unaware that he had just insulted Han, returned to his readout.

"Captain Picard to Commander Data…" Picard said over the coms.

"Data here, Captain."

 **….**

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain Picard was standing behind the helms station, hovering over Wesley Crusher, his hand resting on the chairback. He looked down at the young ensign. "Go ahead Wesley." He said.

Wesley looked down at his console, studiously examining the information it was showing him. He didn't like what he saw, and his expression gave away that much. He knew that the station's main weapon, which resembled a large communications dish on its northern hemisphere, acted just like any other capacitor. The charge had been growing steadily for hours, fed from the powerful reactor core, which itself, hadn't fluctuated in its energy output by more than a few kilowatts. Once the capacitor was at a full charge, it would be free to unleash all that stored energy on the planet below. Once that happened, they didn't stand a chance in stopping it. And that moment was nearing quickly!

"Data!" Wesley began in earnest. "I'm estimating two minutes before the station's main weapon is primed for firing…Max!"

"Captain, we will not make it to core in that allotted amount of time." Data said over the coms. Silence fell over the bridge…

Picard looked back to the princess, standing just in front of her seat next to his command chair, waiting in nervous anticipation. With his eyes locked onto hers, he addressed Data. "Is there any way to increase the strength of the cutting beams?"

"I do not believe so, sir." Data said. "All ships in the fleet are currently at full capacity." He said.

Picard knew the truth in what Data said. Each ship was bleeding all their power into the cutting beam, and they had nothing left to give. As the captain looked at the princess, he could see how helpless she felt. He felt the same. Picard looked up to Worf, who had resumed his station at tactical. "What about Counselor Troi?" He asked. "She might still reach him." He said, referring to Paul and Troi's attempt to connect with him telepathically. He mused at how they had found the young man only a day before, floating in orbit around the giant Dyson's Sphere, and completely incased within a shell of worm bodies. At first, they thought him to be an enemy, now he appeared to be their only hope.

Worf looked back at the Captain. The Klingon wore a stern expression. "Deanna will not cease in her attempt to contact the Sith, Captain." Worf said. Picard nodded, though he could tell that Worf's confidence was not great.

"One minute!" Wesley shouted, reminding them all, of the countdown. His words sliced through the silence of the room like a knife. "Captain Solo! You're getting too close to the cutting beams!" He shouted over the coms, alerting Han.

 **….**

"No time to play it safe, kid!" Han returned over the coms from the cockpit of the Falcon. He looked back over to his hairy first mate. "Chewy, lock in the auxiliary power!" He barked. "She'll hold together." Just then, the ship was rocked to a side, as a huge plume of plasma broke free from the larger ball and slapped the ship's deflectors. The Falcon shimmied violently from the hit. Emergency claxons rang out. Chewy reached up to shut off the alarm. Han gazed forward. "Come on baby, hold together."

"ROUUAAWWWH-AH!" Chewy protested. But Han paid no attention. They were going, and that was that!

"Twenty seconds until we break through to the main reactor chamber." Data announced. "But the weapon will be ready to fire a few seconds before then!"

"Let's hope it's enough." Picard said over the coms.

At that very instant, the boiling pool of burning hot plasma dissipated into nothingness, and the Falcon burst through the hole the cutting beams had created in the outer wall of the reactor chamber. The vastness of the interior cavity spread out before them. Han stared out through the cockpit window's reinforcement grid, to the familiar chamber. Directly ahead, at the very center of the roughly disk-shaped cavity, was the vertical shaft of the power assembly that held the stations relatively small main reactor. Han trained his eyes directly at the center of the main assembly, at its most narrow point where the upper and lower parts met in the middle, to the gleaming stainless-steel cylinder of the main power core. Han gawked when he saw the platform that surrounded the core, and what he found there!

"Look!" He shouted, pointing to the platform. There, Han could clearly see Paul standing with his back to the core, the gold of his stolen Federation Security guard uniform, standing in stark contrast to the silvery core.

But it wasn't the sight of Paul that had gotten Han so excited, it was the dozens upon dozens of Borg that were surrounding him on the platform. Han increased his speed!

"I'm detecting the spice!" Data shouted over the roar of the engines.

"Can you lock on to it!" Han screamed.

Data was about to answer yes, but at that very moment, an alarm sounded from the readout of his navigational display. His eyes went wide at what it told him. "No need." Data whispered. He looked back to Han. Data slapped his com-badge on his chest, and alerted the Enterprise. "Captain Picard!" He shouted powerfully. "Order the fleet away from the Station at once!" He commanded. He did not wait for a response. Data looked directly at Solo. "Paul has just introduced the spice into the core…" He said, his words trailing off.

Han darted back to his controls. "Punch it Chewy!" He shouted. "We'll have to swing around, and make our way back to the tunnel!" Han Swung back around to Data, but only found an empty chair. The android had already left.

As fast as he could, Data ran down the tubular corridor that led from the cockpit, to the ships center. He rounded one turn, then another, through the ships main hold, to engineering section at the very rear of the vessel. He nearly skidded to a halt in front of the small box he'd removed from the runabout, sitting on the floor near one of the hold's access portholes. Power conduits ran from the box to the small hole in the floor, connecting the Federation device, to one of the Falcon's three main nav-computers.

"Were running out of time!" Han shouted over the coms to Mr. Data. "Whatever you're going to do, you need to do it now!"

Data ignored the warning. He knelt, and reached out to the device, to the small glossy-black keypad with the standard LCARS display. His fingers were a blur of activity as they danced along the keypad, imputing commands at a speed only he was capable of. But even he wasn't sure if they would be fast enough.

Outside, the Falcon closed in on the main reactor assembly at dangerous speeds, reaching it in mere seconds. Once there, as though connected to the assembly by an invisible string, the Falcon swung around the tall shaft in a perfect _180 degrees_ motion, orienting the Falcon for a return trip to the tunnel. Han looked out the cockpit window as he did. He could no longer see Paul; the Borg were too close to him now. Han could tell however, that the core was beginning to overload. The thick metal of the steel cylinder was cracking under the pressure, and streamers of light were beginning to eke out of the cracks. They had only seconds left!

"Data!" Han shouted.

Back in the engineering section, Data hurriedly finished inputting the last of his commands. He moved his hand just to the right of the standard LCARS display, to a small set of three vertical touch sensitive control bars on the box.

"Activating transporter beam…Now!" Data announced to Captain Solo.

Data slid his hand up the display, a finger on each bar. As he did, a brilliant stream of golden yellow light sparkled to life before him. The light glittered and danced, accompanied by a gentle, high-pitched, chiming sound, like electric glass breaking. Within the light, a form began to take shape. With each passing second, the form took on more and more detail, as if coalescing from the light itself. As the form fully emerged, the sparkling light faded, eventually blinking out entirely, leaving in its wake, the fully integrated, and very shocked body of Paul Atreides! Paul looked up, wide eyed, and stunned. He looked around the compartment, which to him, was as alien as anything he had ever seen…Almost.

Paul's eyes worked their way around the room, eventually finding Data. He looked over android suspiciously, as though trying to weed out a trick. He'd expected to be dead by now. He'd anticipated it, almost begged for it. But he could see the truth staring back at him. It was not yet his time… He looked to Data, and smiled graciously.

"Thank you." He said simply.

"You are quite welcome sir." Data replied.

But the two had little time for reunions, as only a moment later, the ship was rocked by a terrific shockwave, sending them both flying in different directions. Neither man was seriously hurt, and both made their way back to their feet quickly. Data looked to Paul. "We should return to the cockpit!" He said as he began running back to Captain Solo, and Chewbacca. Paul followed behind.

As they ran, sparks flew, lights flickered, and the ship shook violently. Random jets of steam exploded from unknown ports, letting off pressure for no apparent reason at all. Through the cacophony, Paul shouted ahead to Mr. Data.

"You call this a rescue." He jested.

"Best we could do on such short notice." Data replied in kind."

Though if felt like the journey took hours, the trip to the cockpit lasted only a few seconds. When they arrived, the scowling expression of Captain Solo greeted them, along with an angrily hollering wookie.

"WARRR-aawwr-waa-rouggg!" Chewbacca barked.

"You said it, Chewy! I see you two took your sweet time!" Han said as he twisted around in his seat. He hadn't the time to admonish them further. He reached up and grabbed the control yoke with one hand, and pushed forward on the throttle with the other. The ship rocketed forward. Data re-took the seat behind Chewy hastily, but Paul remained standing. He looked about the cockpit in pure wonderment, like a child staring at a new toy. To him, the complicated array of instruments, and clusters of randomly blinking lights were as a fantastical a sight he'd ever seen. A wide smile grew across his face.

Han's face however, was awash with angst, fear, and frustration. Somehow, even without looking down at his instruments, he could sense the massive shockwave created by the explosion building behind them. He mentally counted off the seconds as they zoomed towards the tunnel. Each one was now a gift telling him they were still alive. Han clinched his jaw as they rapidly approached the small opening carved out by the fleet above. He knew one wrong move, and they would slam into the wall of the huge chamber, rather than thread the needle. With a level of expertise and prison unmatched in the galaxy, Han punched through the opening, and slid inside the tunnel in one graceful motion. He did not pause for any self-congratulatory praises, however. Not yet. They were still a long way from the surface, and to safety.

Once inside the tunnel, Han increased their speed even more, pushing forward on the throttle, until the lever would move no more. Flames started to make their way up and over the cockpit window as the blast wave began overtaking the ship. The vibrations from the looming shockwave, and the deafening roar of the engines made it nearly impossible to think, let alone fly. flames completely encased the window, cutting off the view of the tunnel, and the fast approaching exit in the distance. Han tightened his grip on the control yoke, never taking his eyes off the window. Even though fire, was the only thing he saw.

"We're not going to make it!" Han screamed. But Paul looked through the flames.

"Yes…" He said with knowing confidence. "Yes, we are."

Just then, the Falcon erupted through the tunnel in a magnificent escape. Flames blasted from the tunnel behind them, dissipating harmlessly into the vacuum of space. The ship rocketed away from the station just as the entire thing went up in a gigantic explosion sending sparks showering out in every direction. An enormous shockwave shot out from the center of the blast in a ring of destruction.

The station, and all on board, had been destroyed!

Han slammed back into his seat, not even realizing that he had been half standing. Unconsciously, he let out a completely uncontrollable belly laugh. He found it absolutely hilarious that they had somehow managed to survive. Data looked at Captain Solo with confusion. He did not understand the humor in their current situation. He considered asking just the man, just what it was that he found so amusing, but before he got the chance, a communication came over the coms…

"Picard to Commander Data…"

"Data here, Captain."

"Are you all, aright commander?"

"We are sir." Data said as he looked about the cockpit. Han, Paul, and even Chewbacca now, were all laughing. Data looked at each, puzzled as to how this particular reaction was considered appropriate, considering what they had just been through. He reasoned that he may never fully understand humans, but supposed that he may never have to. And though he didn't understand the emotion of the moment, he joined in the laughter anyway. And in his own android way, was glad that he did.

 **….**

Back on the bridge of the Enterprise, the entire crew erupted in celebration. Even the captain joined in, though his elation was heavily controlled and muted. The Princess, who was standing next to the captain, even gave the man a hug. Picard instantly found the embrace uncomfortable, and only returned it by holding the young royal rigidly by the shoulders before gently nudging her away. He smiled appreciatively at the princess however, and Leia returned the smile with one her own. She turned to the main viewer, where the smiling images of her brother and the Romulan Commander were being displayed.

"Thank you." She said to Luke. Luke nodded, and returned her smile. Luke's eyes turned to the captain's.

"My gratitude, Captain, for ensuring my sister's safety." Luke said.

"It was my honor and pleasure, my lord." Picard returned.

The cheerful reunion was interrupted by a barely audible throat clearing sound coming from Tomalak's side of the viewscreen. Picard, realizing that they had indeed ignored the Commander, turned his attention to the Romulan. "And thank you, Commander Tomalak." Picard said. The sincerity in his voice was so obvious, that even a Romulan could see it. Even the lapse in time to give the Commander the acknowledgement he deserved, did not mask Picard's intent.

"You are welcome, Captain Picard." Tomalak returned with a rare display of sincerity himself. "Perhaps helping the Federation out, isn't all that bad." He said, startling the captain. "From time to time only, of course…So long as you don't make it a habit of calling on your Romulan friends." Tomalak backtracked slightly.

Picard smiled, and wondered if his Romulan counterpart had even noticed that he had referred to him, as friend. He supposed that it didn't matter.

 **….**

From their position high above the planet, the mish-mashed fleet of Romulan, Imperial, and Federation ships came into a casual formation, with the Enterprise at the center. Soon after, the Millennium Falcon joined ranks next to the Enterprise, and all seven vessels headed towards the planet below. The feeling of cooperation and symbiosis between the battle-weary vessels could not be ignored. Comrades in arms, the once opposing ships traversed the distance to Alderaan together, disappearing in the vastness of the blue gem.

The path ahead would be long and filled with obstacles. But like any good journey. It always starts, with the first step…

End Episode 4


	24. Epilogue: Part 1

Epilogue: Pt 1

In the grand assembly chamber high atop the ancient Great Temple, constructed of huge carved blocks of age-darkened stone, an impressive crowd of mixed ranks stood at ridged attention, anxiously awaiting the honored guests.

Horns blazed in glory! At the far end of the chamber, up a small stone staircase, a large metal door slid open, revealing the smaller antechamber inside. The antechamber appeared empty at first, but soon, a figure appeared. It was Commander Skywalker, looking quite different now, then before. The Sith-Lord had discarded the traditional black robes of a full Sith-Master, in favor of a more colorful jacket of brilliant yellow, and brown pants. Luke stopped at the threshold of the opening. With a wide smile, he stood proud and tall. He hadn't felt so sure about anything in his entire life. This was what he was meant to do. This was his home, and these were his friends.

Trailing behind Luke by less than a step, was Captain Solo, wearing the same clothes he had been; royal blue pants, accompanied of course by his almost mandatory leather gun-belt and blaster at his hip, and an arm-less black vest over an off-white dress shirt. And though Han looked the same on the outside, though cleaner, the man inside had changed, grown. Gracious, confident, knowing; but still as cocky as ever. Han took his place next to Luke, as the mighty Chewbacca approached. The overly tall and imposing Wookie stopped behind and in-between Luke and Han, wearing only his usual leather-strapped bandolier and nothing else. Once all three were standing within the doorway, in full view of the greater assembly chamber beyond, they turned their heads, and watched as the fourth member of their party walked out of the shadows.

Wearing his standard gold uniform, Lt. Commander Data walked casually, but formally towards the group, stopping next to Captain Solo. The moment he did, all four exited the threshold, and descended the steps to opened chamber.

The chamber was vast, shooting up to a ceiling of dark green mossy-stone, a hundred meters above. Massive supporting pillars made of stone blocks reached up to the ceiling, angling inward towards the wall as they did. Across the distance of the large chamber, on a landing that looked down on the audience, Princess Leia Organa stood before a backdrop of five huge stone pillars, streamers of morning sun bursting between them. Dressed in a splendid gown of pristine white, and surrounded by dignitaries and men of high rank, the princess patiently awaited as the four made their way across the chamber.

Horns continued to blare a triumphant and victorious refrain, as the four heroes marched through the crowd, down a center aisle that separated the two masses of an audience that contained a collage of Federation, Romulan, and Imperial officers, alongside a considerable compliment of enlisted men from the Rebel Alliance, and Stormtroopers once loyal to the Galactic Empire. A thousand footsteps clapped onto the stone floor as each member of the crowd turned to face the Heroes as they made their way to the stairs at the end of the aisle that led to the awaiting princess.

There, just below the Princess and to her left, on the last step before reaching the landing, was Captain Picard, standing with stoic pride. Like Data and the rest of his officers, he had not had the time to change into his more formal dress uniform, which would have been much preferred considering the rather over-the-top pomp of the ceremony. But even without the added opulence of a proper dress for the circumstance, the powerful aura of the man more than made up for the deficit. Around his neck, Picard wore what the Princess called, the Medal of Bravery, once given out by the Old Galactic Republic to only the most courageous of her citizens. He felt truly honored by the gesture, though slightly embarrassed by the spotlight that accompanied the award.

Standing opposite to Picard, on the same step, was Commander Tomalak of the Romulan Fleet. Tomalak had also been presented with the same medal; but unlike Picard, was having a difficult time hiding his discomfort with the fuss of the overly embellished proceedings. But, Picard thought, for a Romulan, the commander was being quite diplomatic. He was actually quite proud of his Romulan counterpart.

Picard looked down at the audience, to his senior officers in the very first row of the crowd. Commander Riker, who was easily a good head taller than most others in the chamber, was standing at the center aisle, a wide smile beaming back at the Captain. Next to Riker, standing dangerously close, was Counselor Troi. Her glowing eyes were locked on the man. Her smile this day, was for Will Riker, only.

Further down the line, standing next to Troi, was Dr. Crusher, her striking red hair making her easy to spot in the multitude. Wesley, her son, and helmsmen of the Enterprise, was standing next to his mother, with a grinning smile that almost equaled Commander Riker's.

Lt. Commander LeForge and Lt. Worf finished off Picard's compliment of senior officers, minus of course Lt. Commander Data who was fast approaching the landing to receive his own medal. Worf and Geordie both stood rigid and strong, though Lt. Worf was clearly annoyed that he was last in line, and furthest from the aisle. But Worf's discomfort was nothing when compared to the short Imperial officer standing next to the enormous Klingon. Picard recognized the officer. It was Captain Piet, Lord Skywalker's first in command. They'd met briefly before the ceremony. Piet stretched his neck as high as he possibly could, trying to catch a glimpse of his Sith-Commander as he approached, but soon abandoned his attempt when it became clear he stood no chance at success, and Worf appeared to be in no mood to move. Piet huffed a disappointing chagrin, before aiming his eyeline straight ahead in silent protest. Worf, who was not oblivious to Piet's distain, let a small smile slip from his lips at his mischievousness.

Worf's small, malicious, but ultimately harmless act, aside, the pride Picard felt for his crew was difficult to conceal. It was almost as powerful as the emotion he felt as he gazed out on the rest of the crowd. Seeing so many gathered from once opposing fleets, and polarized views of the world, joined now in mutual respect and celebration. It warmed the experienced officer's heart.

Like a vail that was suddenly lifted from his eyes, he saw the possibility in those before him. What they might become, if they could just seize on this opportunity, and ride the wave of change into the future. He saw hope. He wondered where that hope might take them, if only they only took the chance…


	25. Epilogue: Part 2

Epilogue: Pt 2

From a balcony high above the proceedings, Paul watched as the foursome proudly ascended the stone staircase to the Princess, dressed all in white. As they did, Captain Picard, and the Romulan stepped to up to the landing, and walked behind the Princess, their part of the ceremony apparently complete. When the honorees reached the final step, three of the four stopped. For some reason unknown to Paul, the tall Wookie held a step back. An older man with a full white beard and wearing a light tan overcoat approached the Princess. The man carefully handed the Princess a golden medal with a brown band, identical to those worn now by captain Picard and the Romulan Commander. Starting with Paul's friend, Data, then moving down the line, the princess gently placed a medallion over each of the three men standing before her. The young royal's movements where heavily practiced and ritualized, and carried out with a grace few others could have matched. After each presentation, the princess bowed slightly, and gave the recipient a small respectful smile. But when it was Captain Solo's turn, the princess lingered a moment, and gave the rouge captain of the Millennium Falcon an obvious look of affection, one that Paul could spot easily, even from his elevated position.

And when the princess finished placing the medallion over Commander Skywalker's head, a small white robot, about the size and shape of a metal trashcan with two legs, blurted out a loud and rather annoying series of synthesized tones and beeps, while at the same time, rocking and bouncing from side to side on its two legs. Data, who was examining his new medal with all the wonder and curiosity of a child, looked up, and gave the small robot a questioning look, as did everyone else on the stone stage. After a moment, a golden, humanoid robot, placed a metal hand on the silver dome of small jittery droid, calming the thing with his touch alone, and ending the disruption. The Princess smiled widely, as did Commander Skywalker. Even Han found the exchange entertaining. Data, clearly not understanding as to what was so amusing, twitched his head several times from side to side, then returned his attention to his medal.

When the presentation part of the ceremony had been completed, the four honorees turned to face the audience. When they did, the entire crowd erupted in a roar of applause. The outcry of admiration was nearly enough to drown out the booming sounds of the horns as they sounded a song of victory. It was truly a remarkable sight.

As he watched, Paul thought on the vision he'd had while in his _fifteen-hundred year-long_ trance. He hadn't seen anything specific, it was more a feeling, an understanding of how things were meant to be. Truth. The very truth he saw unfolding before him now.

With the defection of Skywalker and his Imperial officers to the Rebel Alliance, and the cooperation between Romulan and Federation sides, Paul could see the very possible, and very near end to the Galactic Empire, especially under the tutelage of the human citizens of the Federation and their evolved sense of morality, and advanced understanding of diplomacy and cooperation. But Paul knew this journey would not be easy for them.

It was for this reason alone, why he was with them at this very moment. Why he had chosen not to participate in their ceremony. He selfishly wanted to, to be a part of their society. But he knew that would be a mistake. For that possible future he saw in his vision to thrive and blossom, these people had to see themselves not as many, but as one. One people fighting for a common cause. That their victory was just that… _theirs_ , and theirs alone. His presence would only serve to distract them from that truth, possibly even serve as a catalyst for many within their ranks to form their own truth. One that would allow them to fall back on what they were most comfortable with, a familiar enemy. Paul knew, he was not yet ready to join them. He knew he was right. And that brought him comfort.

In the shadows, hidden from the world, Paul leaned over the balcony far above the proceedings. His prescient visions had left him. What lie beyond the next dune of time, was invisible to him now. And he preferred it that way. He stood, turned his back to the grand assembly chamber, and walked to the opposite side of the balcony, through a small opening that led to a secluded terrace that looked out on the heavily forested canopy of the lands that surrounded the ancient temple. Paul basked in the glory of the morning sunlight as he looked out on the smoky horizon. One day he would join this new world. But that day was not yet here. Calmness settled within him as he was finally able to relax, and reminisce on the wonders he had witnessed…And what was yet to come…

… He couldn't wait to find out…

End: The Scattering


End file.
